


Dance of the wolves

by Veritas_Liberte



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst on the rocks with a twist, Canon-Typical Violence, Dorian is bad at feelings, Fenris is Bad at Feelings, Glowing fist thing, Halward Pavus' A+ Parenting, Lavellan is not putting up with your shit, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Sided with Mages, Slow Burn, Solas that means you too, Super Angst, yes I'm silly and over dramatic how do you think I got into this?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-14 03:45:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 19
Words: 42,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7151717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Veritas_Liberte/pseuds/Veritas_Liberte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An unromanced Fenris joins the Inquisition and makes quite the impression, especially on a certain Tevinter Altus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The First Movement

**Author's Note:**

> So I am new to Thedas but I'm totally in love with Dragon Age Inquisition, and I desperately wanted to imagine Fenris Joining the inquisition. Also I ditched Blackwall because I have no time for his shit.
> 
> Anyway, first time fan fic writer. Ideas are welcome but please be gentle.
> 
> Also I'm moving so updates will not be as regular as I would like.
> 
> Mea Culpa

In fairness, Dorian saw Fenris first.

He was standing some ways back in the great hall, watching as the famed 'Champion of Kirkwall' walked in with the Inquisitor. Varric didn't seem to be in attendance but, judging by the look in Cassandra's eyes when she stormed past half an hour ago, Dorian hoped the dwarf had found a good hiding spot. The next thing his eyes were drawn to was a mop of unnaturally silver-white hair.

_Shit._

Perhaps he would just slip out and meet the Champion some other time. Just as he was calculating the best way to slip behind the scofolding through the nearest door. Fenris looked up and saw him.

He really shouldn't have been surprised at the look of shock, rage, and hate that sprung up in the pale elf's eyes. What did surprise Dorian was the way the elf's marking flared and his whole body lit up as the warrior raced towards him. Fenris was completely ghosting now, walking through people without a thought as cries of alarm spread in his wake and arms reached out hopelessly to restrain him.

 _He's magnificent,_ thought Dorian even as he instinctively twirlled his staff forward into a defensive pose.

The voices grew louder.

"Broody, _stop_!!"

"Fenris, NO!"

Just as the enraged elf was about to reach him, Dorian Pavus did something he had never done in any battle in his life. He froze. The spell was on the tip of his fingers but for his life he could not cast it. Surrendering to an impulse he did not fully understand, Dorian looked into Fenris's eyes as the glowing hand reached for his chest, and dropped his staff.

Time stoped.

Dorian stood with one arm in front of him and the other outstretched towards the onlookers as if to hold them back. Soldiers formed a perimeter around the two, weapons drawn, unsure how to proceed. They were unsure because Fenris was standing in front of Dorian, still glowing, and his ghosted hand was buried in Dorian's _chest_.

Fenris's brain seemed to be misfiring. All he had to do was rematerialize his hand and the bloodmage would be dead. _But why hadn't he defended himself? Why had he dropped his staff? Was he surrendering? Did the man wish to die?_ The red haze of rage softened around his vision long enough to register the other man's eyes. What Fenris saw in Dorian's eyes shook him to his core. The hatred, rage and terror he expected were not there. He saw calm, pain, and resignation.

Their eyes held for the space of two heartbeats. Then Dorian released his breath slowly, and closed his eyes, waiting.

_Waiting._

_Like a slave._

Fenris leapt back as though he had been burned. With a hiss and a curse he turned on his heels and ran.

Dorian stood like a statue until the echo of footsteps faded from the hall. Then he lowered his arms, lifted his chin, and without a glance toward either his fallen staff or any of the still petrified people in the hall, swept calmly through the door that lead to the library.

It wasn't until the door closed behind him that he started shaking.

  
~~~~~

" _What the fuck was that Dorian_?!" Lavellan hissed.

She was pacing back and forth in front of Dorian's small alcove grinding her teeth in frustration. _I will not yell at Dorian. I will not yell at Dorian. Dorian didn't do anything._ That was the problem.

Taking a few deep gulps of air in a vain attempt to calm herself, she continued. "You could have been killed."

"Well, it's lucky I'm too pretty to die. Besides I would hate to get blood on this outfit, it's brand new," Dorian said with a wave of his hand and an attempt at his usual nonchalance. He sat in his favorite chair trying desperately to look like he was reading a book. The best he could say for the attempt was that he managed not to actually hold the book upside down.

"Dorian" Lilith leaned over his chair putting a hand on each armrest and forcing him to look at her. She spoke softly this time. "Why didn't you stop him?" Dorians eyes flitted around her steady gaze as if the answer could be found somewhere in the bookshelves over her shoulders. "I thought lightning might be the only thing to stop him in that state.... but it was a crowded room... And..."

"Dorian I know very well you could cut my hair with a fireball from the other side of that room. Your control is not an issue."

Dorian sighed and tried for something closer to the truth. "I don't really understand it myself Lavellan. It was like some part of me thought the only way to stop him was to prove that I was not a threat? I don't know. Made some sort of sense at the time."

Lilith let out a long weary sigh. "Well don't worry, I'm sending him away. You will never have to see Fenris again."

Now she was turning away Inquisition resources for him, this would not do.

"Don't be silly Lilith. Who else could identify a potential Tevinter agent so quickly?" he stammered, "I'd rather have that little trick pointed at the Venatori wouldn't you? I.. I mean, as long as he knows I'm off the menu."

Lilith Lavellan took Dorian's face in her hands and positively bored into his eyes with her gaze. "Dorian," she said with gentle firmness, "You are my dearest friend. To hurt you is to hurt me. Please, _please_ , remember that next time someone wants to kill you."

Dorian felt his eyes pricking dangerously. He tried to pass his trembling lip off with a smirk. "Puppy eyes, I see how it is. You always know how to get your way. That's why I adore you amicus."

"They are _Halla_ eyes. Honestly, you shems and your dogs!" She said with a feigned exasperation.

"Inquisitor, how could you? _I_ am no Fereldan dog lord" Dorian responded gesturing in consternation. "Like all civilized persons, I prefer cats."

The Inquisitor rolled her eyes and sighed. "I will talk to Fenris but I'm not promising anything"

"That's all I ask."

  
~~~~~~

This time, it was Fenris who first saw Dorian.

Fenris sat perched on the rubble of one of the unrestored towers of Skyhold. The cold wind nipped his face as he stared out, unseeing, across the snow covered peaks. He liked the cold. It helped to drive back his thoughts. They were not pleasant tonight.

Hawke had chased him into the courtyard, dragging him off to some undesignated wreck of a room and yelling at him. It was a solid half an hour of " _What the hell were you thinking Fenris!!_ " before Hawke sighed dramatically and said he would go find this Inquisitor and try to talk her out of arresting them.

Then came the meeting with the Inquisitor. Lilith Lavellan may be a Dalish mage but she was nothing like Merrill. She did not seem to miss much.

_"I understand your quick reaction time is an asset Fenris; but 'kill first, ask questions later' is not how we do things around here. Many of my advisors, including Dorian, believe your skills would benefit the Inquisition. I need to know that you can take orders._

_"Make no mistake," she said, stalking towards him with a look so fierce that it should have been hilarious coming from her tiny frame. It somehow only made her more frightening."Dorian is one of my dearest friends and if he gets so much as a skinned knee under your watch..." here she drove her slender finger sharply into his chest with each word, "I. Will. END. You."_

Fenris remembered glancing over her shoulder at Hawke who looked back with crossed arms and shrugged. _What did you expect?_ was the message clearly on his face.

_"I accept your terms." And just like that, Fenris was part of the Inquisition._

The Inquisition. Life was so much easier on the coast. Tearing apart slavers, answering to no one. But if Corypheus was truly back and trying to destroy the world, even Fenris could see that had to be a priority.

He heard voices further down the wall and a single step approaching. He turned instinctively. The patrols had been content to give him a wide bearth after his display in the great hall but that was not the step of a guard.

 _Kaffas!_ It was the mage.

Dorian positively sauntered as though he didn't have a care in the world. A prince, coming along to criticize this bit of wall simply because he had nothing better to do. Fenris sneered, he didn't think the mage had seen him, that was just as well. He watched until Dorian made it into the shadow of the tower. As he stepped into the darkness all his bravado left him. Dorian let out sigh that ended in a groan. He leaned over the parapet with his head in his hands and his shoulders sagged.

"Are you seeking me mage?" _Fasta vass, why did he say anything?_

 _"Festis bei umo canavarum!_ " Dorian blurted out, nearly jumping out of his skin. "Please tell me you aren't in the wall this time." Dorian looked up when he identified Fenris' low chuckle coming from above him. "Not a bad idea. I shall have to keep it in mind." The elf shifted so Dorian could see him. Not that it made Dorian any less jumpy to see his tattoos glowing in the moonlight. Fenris scowled.

"Why did you not defend yourself mage?" _Was there really no filter on his mouth tonight?_

Dorian crossed his arms and glared at the elf. "Why didn't you kill me?"

Fenris' eyebrows shot up. That was not the question he was expecting. A slight smirk touched the corner of his mouth. "I asked you first."

Dorian shrugged. After a moment he let out another long breath. "I know who you are you know," he began. "I read Tale of the Champion when I joined the Inquisition. Seemed an easy bit of research, Varric's tales were not likely to be much more wild than what filtered up to the Imperium." Fenris snorted. "Your story... your Ma... When it mentioned Danarius I...." Why couldn't he speak tonight? Dorian took a deep breath and tried again. "I didn't know Danarius. My father mentioned him as someone particularly loathsome but I didn't know many details nor did I care. Youth has its priorities. But one night I snuck out to a party at his villa. My father had received an invitation, probably as an insult, and refused to attend. I figured it would annoy him if I went in his stead. I was... upstairs, when the evening's entertainment began. I had no idea what was happening until it started. They were bleeding a slave, a little boy, to fuel some magical show. He was a child, there was nothing I could do. I... I ran. Well, technically I threw up in some azaleas, _then_  I ran. I think I spent the next week drunk in a brothel trying to forget. That was where Alexius found me. He became my mentor. We planned to do great things, change the Imperium, make my home better. Then Felix got sick, Alexius joined the Venatori, I tried to stop him and ended up here.

"I don't know what you really went through belonging to a man like that but I can read between the lines. Everyone here hates me because I'm a 'Vint'. They spit at me when no one is looking. They don't really know me or my home, they know Chantry propaganda and wild tales of cows flying over Minrathos, but you.... You have reason to hate my home, to hate what I stand for, if not me. I think, in that moment, I couldn't be just one more thing from the Imperium that hurt you."

Fenris' mouth gaped by the end of the story. He had seen such demonstrations and worse from Danarius, obviously, but to see someone from the Imperium so affected, an _Altus_ no less. Could he possibly be telling the truth? Then the last part registered. Fenris snarled. "Are you saying you would rather die than strike a _slave_?" Rage and disbelief mingled in his voice. He never would have considered the possibility that the Mage was telling the truth at any other time, but now?

"You aren't a slave Fenris. I'm sorry you ever were." Dorian's voice went soft for a moment. Then the mask was back.

"Anyways don't tell anyone," said Dorian, wrapping his brusqueness back around him like a cloak. "I have a reputation to maintain you know. Evil Magister, and all that."

"Oi! Flashy pants!" A deceptively loud voice came from a little blonde bouncy elf in the courtyard. "C'mon. Chargers are in the tavern. Bull's got Krem and Skinner tryin' t' drink each other down. Varric's taking bets."

Dorian waved and called down to her. "Thank you Sera. Tell Varric my money's on Krem."

"Wot? 'Gainst Skinner? You're mad, she's well fit. Anyways can't. Gotta find that glowy elf. _Arrows._ " This last comment had a distinct edge of menace to it. She apparently had not spotted Fenris.

"Err, you weren't planning on shooting him were you Sera darling? I have an idea the Inquisitor wouldn't like that."

"No.. Yeah... Well, I will if he tries anythin' again. Nobody hurts my friends. 'Sides, why can't 'e be like you, keepin' all his magicky rubbish to hisself?"

Dorian nearly doubled over with suppressed laughter at that last comment. He had read enough of the elf's opinions on magic to know that the comparison might make his head explode. He didn't dare to look at Fenris, but he tried to turn his reaction into a dramatic bow. "I am ever blessed to have you as the champion of my honour Lady Sera."

"Piss! Shut up with your fancy talk, you comin' or wot?"

"I wouldn't miss it."

Dorian turned to go and dipped his head towards Fenris in a motion he hopped Sera wouldn't see. He spoke softly, "Good night Fenris."

Fenris sat watching as the immaculately dressed Tevinter Altus walked down to meet the city elf in old velvet and plaidweave.

_This place is stranger than the fade._

 


	2. Second Movement

  
In Varric's mind there was no problem that could not be solved with ale and wicked grace. Or at least, there shouldn't be. After Fenris' dramatic entrance everyone needed to calm down and play nice. This would take a touch of manipulation, fortunately the dwarf was very, very good at manipulation.

Lavellan was the first on board, she was an easy sell. The seeker also favoured a direct approach. Sera took a light touch but ultimately wasn't hard to bring on board. Chuckles took a lot of convincing. One by one the inner circle joined the plot. Hawke and Fenris had been busy their first day, setting up quarters, learning the layout of the keep, schedules. Hawke had a rather long conference with the Inquisitor during which Fenris felt a little lost. He had not been given any duties yet and Varric had seemed a bit busy.

So I was only natural that Fenris was happy to see Hawke striding towards him just as the sun set with a carefree smile and an open wave.

"Fenris, I was looking for you." Hawke called, "Varric says there is a pub here and the ale is better than the hanged man."

"That is hardly a strong recommendation, Hawke. The ale at the hanged man tasted like rat piss."

"Exactly. I'm told this stuff is slightly better than horse piss. Imagine the luxury." Hawke sighed, throwing his arm over Fenris shoulder and guiding him toward the Herald's Rest. Fenris gave a low chuckle but allowed himself to be led by the chatting man.

Of course when they entered Varric was already holding court.

"Hawke! Broody! You're just in time to loose a few sovereigns, boys."

Varric sat with his back to the wall, open spaces on the bench to each side of him clearly indicated that more people were expected. Across the table was the Inquisitor and a bald elf who was clearly an apostate. The magic rolling off the table set his teeth on edge. At the end of the table to Varric's left sat a stern Nevarran warrior and it was to that side Hawke dragged the elf slipping in beside Varric without ceremony and pulling Fenris along with him.

"Varric have you started drinking without me?" Hawke said in mock consternation. "How could you? I really thought we had something."

"It's the chest hair, I know," responded Varric as he poured each man a flag on of ale from the pitcher on the table, "that and the five royals you still owe me from wicked grace. Anyways introductions first. Hawke, Fenris, you've already met Inquisitor Lavellan." "Just Lilith" she chimed in. "This is Solas, our resident fade expert also known as Chuckles." "Only to you Child of the Stone" said the bald elf with a polite nod to both men. He alone was drinking wine instead of partaking from the pitcher of ale Varric had evidentially ordered for the table. "I know you are both familiar with Seeker Cassandra by reputation" Varric continued somewhat awkwardly. He had bribed Cassandra here with the opportunity to sit with Hawke and Fenris but she was still angry from their earlier fight so he hurried on; "And wasn't Buttercup supposed to be...."

"HeeYAW!" came the shriek from above as a blur of plaidweave and red velvet somersaulted from the upper balcony and landed on the table in the form of the elf Fenris had seen last night.

"Sera you goose!" Lavellan laughed pulling the elf down beside her. "Come on it's Wicked Grace night behave. Where is Bull anyways?" "Tiny?" Responded Varric, "I asked him to go pick up Sparkler." "And apparently he took you literally," responded Hawke as a hulking one-eyed Qunari appeared in the door with a chattering man slung over his shoulder.

Fenris felt his stomache tighten as he heard the polished accents of the man approaching them in such an undignified position.

"Let me down you great blundering lummox! I am perfectly capable of walking, this is ridiculous. Put me down I say or I will light your horns on fire!"

At this last phrase the Qunari deposited the struggling mage into a seat beside Sera and slid next to Varric.

"Of course you both remember Dorian Pavus our resident Tevinter expert," Varric continued as though they were likely to forget the man Fenris had nearly disembowelled 24 hours previously. "And rounding out our game tonight is the Iron Bull." Bull turned and nodded to the pair raising a ridiculously oversized mug in salute.

Varric started to shuffle and smoothly tossed in the wildest distraction he could think of as he started to deal. "Bull leads the Chargers, the mercenary company sitting over there," Varric nodded in Krem's general direction, "he's also Ben Hassrath."

He couldn't have chosen a better distraction. Hawke and Fenris both jumped half out of their seats and and the elf started glowing menacingly. The Qunari just laughed, "easy boys, I'm not here about the Arishok. The Quin just doesn't like giant, demon-spitting holes in the sky." "Here's to that," said Lavellan, raising he glass in toast towards the Bull. "Yeah," pipped in Sera, "Down with Coryphyshits!" Everyone seemed to settle into the drinks and casual conversation. Considering the general lack of death threats Varric thought it was going well.

"So Fenris," Seeker Cassandra started, "I understand you are an expert in two-handed weapons. Bull is also but he spends most of his time with his men. I would like to have your expertise for training our troops if you are willing."

Fenris raised an eyebrow, "Would your men take instruction from an elf?"

"Hunh," Cassandra made a noise in the back of her throat, "You are welcome to spar with any who object. If Varric has told me even half of the truth I do not imagine their objections would last very long."

A genuine smile spread across Fenris's face. The Seeker was clearly a warrior who understood respect was earned. "I think I would enjoy that."

"Careful sparing with her broody," Varric pipped up, "The Seeker could go toe to toe with Aveline."

Fenris raised an eyebrow, impressed. Bull asked, "Who's Aveline?"

"The guard captain of Kirkwall," Varric responded. "Imagine if the seeker was from Ferelden, and a redhead." The Bull sighed with an expression that could almost be described as dreamy while Cassandra made another disapproving sound in her throat. "Sorry Tiny, she's happily married." Bull groaned and Dorian laughed into his ale. "Oh Varric, you are a cruel, cruel man."

Back and forth the group carried the conversation, now drawing Fenris in, now Dorian. No one tried to make them speak to each other but by the end of the night they could both at least engage with the group.

All in all, Varric conceded, he'd had worse nights.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fenris found he really enjoyed working for the inquisition. His first day training had gone very well. There had indeed been one question about the fitness of an elf as a heavy warrior. True to her word, Cassandra invited the recruit to spar with Fenris and when he ended up disarmed and thrown across the practice ring in less than a minute, there were no more objections. He had a space to call his own, much smaller and more manageable then the old run-down manor he lived in in Hightown. There was a staff to take care of food and cleaning but there was nothing like the feel of slavery about the place. This was a cause people believed in, invested in. Plus they were all getting paid.

Then there was the matter of the Inquisitor's first instructions to him. Most people would have understood the threat merely as an insistence that Fenris not harm Dorian. Fenris was not most people. He found himself watching the mage from a distance. It irked him, guarding another mage, but he would not jeopardize his place here by allowing harm to come to the Altus. As it happens, it was a very good thing he did.

~~

It was after another Wicked grace night and Dorian stumbled out rather more drunk than usual. Fenris had taken to leaving by the other entrance and following the Altus' progress surreptitiously from the wall. He couldn't see Dorian tonight. Something felt off. Which way would the mage be going?

Fenris scanned the shadows below and twitched his ears, flitering out the sounds of the tavern and listening for something out of place. Come to think of it why was there no patrol on this stretch of wall? A sense of urgency grew.

A flicker of movement in the shadows caught his eye, followed by a the sound of a crack and a thud.

 _'Get his legs.' 'I can't carry him alone' 'he's hefty for a mage.'_  
  
Fenris slunk on silent feet towards the sound of the men's voices. He had to asses the situation quickly.

Three men stumbled out of the shadows awkwardly trying to heft something up the steps to the wall. It was the unconscious body of Dorian Pavus.

" _What if someone sees?_ " A whispered voice hissed. _"What's to see?"_ The first responded, _"The blood mage got drunk and tripped off the battlements."_

"Or perhaps three fools wished to know the penalty for murder." Fenris spoke with cold anger stepping out of the shadows before them.

"Shut up knife-ear. This doesn't concern you." The burly man hissed. Such a fool did not deserve to talk.

A deep growl rumbled from Fenris as he rushed the men. His brands flared as his fist connected with the first jaw sending the man flying over the battlement steps.

"Shit. It's the Lyrium Elf" "Run". The remaining two men dropped their unconscious bundle on the stone steps and ran for dear life. He had them in two steps. Fenris grabbed the first retreating figure and threw him against the wall with such violence that he crumpled like a rag doll. Two more steps and he caught the last fleeing man by the throat.

"Give me one reason why I should not rip out your spine." Fenris growled.

"Fenris, what is going on?"

Fenris looked up to see Cole running towards him followed by the Inquisitor, Varric, and the Iron Bull.

The soldier, still being held up by his throat began to squirm. "Please, help! The elf is mad, he..."

"Silence fool!" Fenris thundered, shaking the terrified man like a rag doll.

"Blood, death, magic thralls. Why don't they see? Kill him, no one will know." The frighteningly soft voice wafted between the stunned parties, "they hurt him."

"Where is Dorian?!" Lilith demanded. "On the steps." Fenris responded, "I caught these fools planning to throw him over the wall."

Liliths voice turned to ice, "Bull, Varric, take these men to the dungeon. Cole fetch me Solas and healers with a stretcher. Fenris, take me to Dorian."

Dorian was unconscious. The men had struck him in the head and he was bleeding badly. Lilith crouched beside him trying to asses the damage. "Dorian? Dorian please wake up." His pulse was thready at best. Lilith brought a gentle wash of magic light into her hands and ran them along his head. "Why are we both such rubbish at healing?"

Fenris was no healer but he had seen his share of head wounds. "Here," he said tearing off his tunic, "We must staunch the blood flow. Lift his head gently. Move him as little as possible." Wrapping the shirt into a makeshift bandage he pressed it to the wound.

Soft footsteps. Solas appeared at his side. Lilith was in tears. "Please help him, it was a blow to the head I didn't want to cause any more damage." "Hush, you did well lethallan." Fenris felt the tug of magic on his brands as the older elf's magic washed over Dorian. "We can move him safely now." The two healers with a stretcher had arrived. Fenris helped them move the prostrate man to the stretcher and stood back as they gently carried him to the infirmary.

Lilith watched them go with clenched fists, her face was streaked with tears and her whole body rigid with tension and rage. Now would be the moment, he had failed to protect the man from harm. She was furious with him, should be furious with him. He should say something.

"I apologize. I should have been more vigilant," Fenris began, and Lilith flew at him. Expecting an attack, Fenris had no idea what to do when instead he was clutched in a fierce hug. His arms were suddenly full of a crying woman. Fenris was not equipped for this.

"We would have been too late. If you hadn't been there..." her voice choked.

Fenris awkwardly tried to pat her back. Why did no one train him in how to deal with crying women? "He is safe now. We are all safe."

Perhaps, just for tonight, they could pretend it was true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure I'm happy with this chapter. Poor Dorian, I'm going to have to do something nice with him.


	3. Third Movement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry, I did mention moving right? Thank you so much for the kudos anyways, I hope I can make up for my absence.

  
" _ **This is completely unacceptable!**_ "

It seemed the night had not cooled the Inquisitor's anger, nor had the sight of Dorian laying in the infirmary that morning with a bandaged head and a swollen eye. The three advisors had been trying to diffuse the situation all morning but it was clear that the inquisitor would not be gain-stayed.

"We must deal with this firmly but fairly," chimed in Cullen, "we cannot open ourselves to any charges of favouritism" He really tried not to emphasize the last word. Everyone knew Dorain and the inquisitor were dear friends.

Lavellan's eyes widened and then narrowed frighteningly. "Oh no, not at all," she replied in a dangerously sweet tone, "which is why you will provide me with a list of the appropriate punishments expected in a military organization for desertion of post, insubordination, and attempted murder of a superiour officer."

Cullen's jaw became even more firm but he nodded his aquiecence. The Inquisitor was not wrong.

"Josephine!" Lilith continued, "since actions do not seem enough to gain respect for those who risk their lives for us regularly we will give the shems something they can understand. Titles. Every member of the inner circle will have a title showing their value to our cause. They can be from any appropriate source, make them up if you have to, but everyone is to have one."

"Your Worship, Sera will object and Cole..."

"Every. One. No exceptions."

"Yes, your worship."

"Lelliana, I assume you are already looking into this."

"I am. Thus far we have not been able to identify any external cause. These men appear to have been acting on their own initiative."

"I do not find that comforting Lelianna."

"The lack of their association is not publicly known. I can easily weave a story casting them as bribed agents. If Lord Pavus is seen as a target for enemy plots it will strengthen his credibility."

"Do it."

"That won't make much difference to the ordinary folk you know." None of them had noticed the door to the war room was open and Garret Hawke was leaning against the door frame.

"Don't be too shocked, I could hear you in Josephine's office. Anyways, the agent thing is good and all, but the common people on the ground need someone they can trust. Someone at their own level. Maybe someone with a history of slavery in Tevinter. Someone who they wouldn't expect to approve of Pavus."

All four of them stared at Hawke like he had grown a second head. Lilith stuttered out "You cannot possibly mean Fenris?!"

Hawke's laugh boomed out over the stunned group. "Maker no!" He wiped the tears from his eyes as he tried to compose his face. "Fenris, can you imagine? Ha! No, you don't need Fenris for this. You need Orana.

~~~~~~~~~

Orana had been sent from Kirkwall with Bodan and Sandal. Hawke did his best to find a safe place for her but these were difficult times and he was relieved to have a chance to bring her to the relative safety of the fortress. For whatever miscevious reason of his own, Hawke decided not to tell Fenris she was coming. Whether Varric knew was never discovered.

When she finally arrived Hawke was there to greet her in person and make sure she was set up with quarters. Josephine was thrilled to have another experienced hand join the staff and Orana was pleased to see a friendly face.

Orana nearly worshipped Hawke. He had freed her from slavery given her work and friends and a chance to live free and with dignity. If he wanted her to come to a fortress in the mountains she would do it. Eager to prove her worth Orana was using her first day to familiarize herself with the new fortress. So many things were still chaotic and it was difficult to navigate some of the rubble where the first merchant stalls were being set up. It was unfortunate that her ankle turned on a rather treacherous bit of stone near some rather sour looking workmen.

"Watch where you're going, knife-ear!" Was the only response from the burly man she stumbled against. He shrugged her away and she fell hard on her knee.

"I was rather under the impression a knife-ear was busy saving the world." The smooth voice came from behind Orana in a chillingly familiar accent. She couldn't she the speaker but the big burly man in front of her turned red-faced.

"Now what business is it of yo...." He started but stopped abruptly, the man's face turning a mottled purple when he spotted the speaker.

"Now be a good little barbarian and report to Threninn. Make sure you report this incident honestly or I will feed you to the Seeker."

The worker stumbled away quickly growling and muttering under his breath.

A hand reached down to help her and Orana caught her breath. Olive skin, perfectly manicured hands, the sort of hands she had seen a thousand times and never thought to see again. The hands of an upper class Tevinter mage.

Orana squeaked and tried to scramble up but her poor leg bucked under her. The man's hand caught her under the elbow, steadying her. The steeled herself to look up into his face. Definitely Tevinter. She was stopped from complete panic by the concerned and slightly bemused expression on his face.

"Alright there? Your leg, can you walk on it?"

Old habits die hard and Orana hesitated to give a negative. "I will manage Messere." She said, dropping her eyes slightly.

"Nonsense," the man said with a flourish, "I'm not much of a healer but there is no point being a Mage if I can't help with a simple sprain." A slight gesture brought a wash of cool healing to her joints. "There, cold should keep swelling down. Maybe rest a few minutes you'll be fine."

"Mage!" snarled a familiar voice, "What is it you think you are you doing?"

The two turned simultaneously to see a very cross looking Lyrium laced elf storming towards them from across the courtyard.

"Fenris?"; "Messere Fenris?" The two blurted simultaneously. Then, almost in sync, "you know Fenris?" The exchange really would have been funny if the elf in question had looked a touch less murderous as he stepped between them, forcing Dorian to let go of Orana.

"I asked what you were doing to Orana Mage, do not make me repeat myself."

Dorian drew himself up rather haugtily, "I was helping the young lady up, I didn't realize you were allergic to manners as well as magic."

"You were performing magic on her!"

"Please, Messere Fenris it's alright," Orana chimed in softly, "the young Master was healing my leg."

Fenris winched at the term 'Master' and scowled even harder at the answering grimace in the Mage.

"I see introductions are in order, Dorian of House Pavus. Just Dorian is fine though, Master Pavus is my father, much to the misfortune of all concerned." Dorian looked from Orana's slightly confused face to Fenris's protective glare and continued. "But since you two seem already acquainted I'll take myself out of your way." Dorian bowed with a flourish and turned in the direction of the main hall.

None of the three saw Hawke and Varric leaning over the battlements, or the smirk and exchange of coin that passed between them.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dorian would never understand that blasted elf. First he wanted to kill him, then he stalked him and saved his life, then he avoided him and snarled at him over nothing. A small, perversely curious part of his brain wondered which version of Fenris he would see tonight as he walked toward the Hanged Man.

Fenris felt even more conflicted. Every bone in his body screamed at him that the man was dangerous. Any Mage was difficult to trust but an Altus? Impossible. Try as he might though he couldn't figure out the man's game. The whining and preening were annoying but hardly malevolent. On the contrary, Orana spoke very warmly of his help this afternoon. He had to admit he had not seen anything dangerous. And, loath as he was to admit it, everyone close to Dorain seemed willing to vouch for his character. Even Varric, who seriously ought to have known better.

Hawke had insisted that Orana join everyone for drinks that night. At first she blushed and stammered and tried to serve their drinks but Hawke's jovial mood and Varric's smooth tonge soon had her comfortable as she was introduced to many of the inner circle.

Dorian was late, as always.

When he arrived Varric was in the midst of one of his tales. Orana sat between him and Hawke wide eyed and slightly flushed as she hung on every word.

"Sparkler, come meet an old friend from Kirkwall. Sparkler this is Orana, she worked for Hawke, Orana this is..."

"Messere Dorian!" The slightly tipsy elf squeaked, "I never thanked you for this afternoon."

"I sense a story here Sparkler, spill."

"It's nothing, I merely helped her up, I trust your leg is well my dear?"

"He healed me," said Orana with round eyes and that terribly serious face that only the drunk can manage, "and he sent away the men who pushed me."

"It was really nothing, just a simple sprain. I sent the men to Thrennin's tender mercies." Dorian spoke quickly, it was such a minor thing and Fenris was already glaring murderously at him.

Of course the brooding elf chose this moment to interject. "Hawke freed Orana from Hadrianna. She was the only slave who escaped being bled for power."

Orana wilted visibly at the sad reminder and Hawke cuffed Fenris on the back of the head. They weren't there to make Orana feel bad. Meanwhile Dorian stood there looking a little a little lost at the turn in conversation.

"Ah, yes, Hadrianna? I think I recal her, one of the few marriage offers my parents were quite willing to turn down for me. Snivelling social climber as I recall. I congratulate you on your liberation my dear. But where did you work?"

"In the kitchens Messere."

"Be still my heart," interjected Dorian with a dramatic gesture, "does that mean you know how to make food that actually tastes like something? Maker, I thought I was stuck with nothing but boiled potatoes and turnp stew for the rest of my life."

Orana gave a slight smile and Hawke pipped up in mock offence. "Hey don't mock Ferelden cuisine, it's hardy and keeps us strong."

"Ha! As if anything in Ferelden could be called cuisine. I wonder if Maevaris could smuggle me some real spices."

"Sparkler, I didn't know you knew Mae!" Varric interjected.

"Maevaris Tilani? Yes, of course. We pariah have to stick together."

"No shit? She's my cousin, by marriage of course."

"Your cousin is a Magister and you never told anyone, you sly dog."

"WHAT?!" Shouted Fenris slamming his wine glass down and looking at Varric like the dwarf had grown a second head, or in his case, a beard.

"See Broody, this is why we don't tell you these things."

The elf stood abruptly, "I need some air" but no one was paying attention. Varric and Dorian were chatting back and forth about Mae and something called the Lucerni and Hawke was trying to distract Orana from gloomy thoughts.

As he slunk out to the walk the wall he really thought no one saw him go.

  
~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
Fenris heard a crunch of gravel behind him as he sat looking over the wall but he did not turn.

- _Fasta vas_! He came out here to get away from the others. Skyhold was large, but even here there were only so many places to go.

Lilith Lavellan's feet padded softly along the wall and she sits down beside him dangling her legs over the battlements. Not too close, mercifully. He didn't really mind the Inquisitor but she was still a Mage.

They both sat breathing the chilled mountain air watching the moonlight shining off the snowcaps.

Good. He was in no mood to be lectured.

After several mintues Lilith spoke. "Do you know why Dorian doesn't wear proper sleeves?"

Fenris' whole body stiffened, if there was one thing he did not want to talk about it was that damned Magister pup. "It is because he is a vain, preening, self absorbed peacock" Fenris growled.

Lilith laughed gently, eyes shining. "I've often wondered, especially considering how often he complains about the cold. I asked him why the Imperium had never heard of sleeves. Do you know what he said?"

Fenris scowled, "They all wear sleeves in the Imperium, blood mages always hide their scars."

"Exactly" she said, as a look of comprehension spread across his face. "He _is_ showing off, showing off what he isn't, the scars he doesn't have." her voice became tender, "Not that he has come away from there unharmed."

Fenris' scowl deepened, "Do you compare his suffering to mine?" he growled. "No, no of course not" she said quickly holding up a hand to prevent a further outburst. "But you know better than anyone Fenris, the worst scars are those we carry inside."

In a moment her demeanour brightened, all seriousness gone. "Anyways, I'm heading to the Hinterlands in two days to clear out a few venatori and a bandit stronghold. Varric is coming, would you like to join the party?"

Ferris smiled wickedly, "I think I would like that."

"Good. I would go tomorrow but Lelliana is waiting on a message and anyways Varric would kill me if I made us all miss Wicked Grace tomorrow night. See you there. And don't even think about missing it, you owe my three royals from last time."

With a bubbling laugh she whisked away on light eleven feet, skimming the ramparts like the mountain breeze. Ferris shook his head. He didn't know what to make of her. The Inquisitor was a position of strength and responsibility, she never shied away from the work or gave the impression that she was less than deadly serious about he task. But the moment she was free she ran off, fawning over the horses, playing pranks with Sera, roaring with laughter as she wheedled stories out of Varric. Her mood and focus could change on a dime but she never seemed anything other than sincere. She was an odd one alright, he thought.

It wasn't until that moment that Fenris realized that he had forgotten to ask who else would be in the party.


	4. Intermezzo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our two antagonists end up working together and reach an uneasy peace.

  
Of course it was the Mage. It was the Maker be damned Mage.

Fenris was up at dawn heading to the stables with the blade of mercy at his back and his pack in hand when he heard the complaints.

"Amicus this is utterly unreasonable even the sun isn't up. You cannot expect me to maintain my status as the most handsome man in the inquisition without my beauty rest."

"Silly Altus," Lavellan replied, "the early bird catches the worm, or the Venatori in this case."

Dorian wrinkled his nose, "More like vipers than worms."

Fenris rolled his eyes, well there was no point hiding himself. He let the gravel shift underfoot to announce his presence. Dorian jumped, and Lavellan turned with a huge smile.

"And here comes your knight in shinning lyrium."

Dorian flushed under his dusky skin, and Fenris's ears twitched in annoyance. Kaffas what was that woman trying to do?

Dorian recovered quickly and tisked at her like an errant child. "Inquisitor that was terrible. Any more puns like that and I'll tell Josephine that you aren't allowed to drink with Iron Bull.

Lilith just rolled her eyes, "Sush you." A loud trumpeting sound interrupted from inside the stables. "Aargh, I'd better go make sure that the stable boy isn't trying to put a saddle on my hart. Again."

As Lilith stormed off to trounce the unlucky stable boy, Dorian turned to Fenris.

"Sorry about that, Lavellan is a disgustingly cheery morning person. But I should... that is I ought to have already... what I mean is, thank you. Truly I would not be here without your help and it was more than I expected."

Fenris raised his eyebrow as he surveyed the mage. Why was this normally articulate man tripping over himself? He had never had anyone act so conciliatingly towards him. It was, disconcerting. Finally he took pity on the man.

"Do not read to much into it, I am not in the habit of allowing my companions to be murdered."

"Ah, yes," Dorian replied, quickly slipping back to his familiar flippancy, "I can see how that would be terribly inconvenient. Though, I suppose anything to cut down on the wintersend mailings."

Fenris let out a snort.

"Was that a smile Broody? Wonders never cease." Varric's voice popped up behind them.

Fenris carefully schooled his expression as he turned and replied. "Only at the thought of you riding dwarf. I was hoping the Inquisitor would put you on a dracolisk."

"Woa, easy, you know only the Iron Lady rides those."

"Come Varric," Dorian chimed in, "where is your sense of adventure?"

Oh they were not letting the Dwarf get a story out of this. Not a chance.

~~~~~~~

There was something wrong with the mage's magic.

Fenris could feel magic, very powerful magic, flowing from the Altus. He knew the feel of Tevinter tequniques far better than he ever wished to. The style felt so different from that of the Dalish Mage beside him, but it didn't change the fact that something was missing.

Through several small skirmishes the thought nagged at the back of his mind. It wasn't until they found the first camp of Venatori that it fell into place.

He could feel it in the air as they stealthily approached the camp. The slick feel of blood magic, it always made him feel dirty. At Lavellan's signal they took out the first two scouts.

"Pavus," a sneering voice called out, "down with the Dog Lords and you've found yourself a wolf?"

Fenris didn't have time to snarl before the man was thrown back with a violent blast.

"Take the others," Dorian snapped in a frightening voice, "Crassius is mine."

With that Dorian flung himself at the other mage, power crackling from his staff and fingertips, fire and frost licking up his arms unheeded as he threw everything he had at Crassius.

"Protecting your pet? I never thought you went for knife ears," Crassius jeered, but a practiced ear could here the crack behind his voice. Blood flowed from his own arm and sucked from his fallen comrades. The man was losing strength, desperate to find a weakness. Dorian merely glared, his typically playful style subsumed in pure focused rage.

Fenris pulled his blade from the last of the Venatori. It was sickening to watch the blood of each fallen enemy swirl towards Crassius, to feel the nauseating crawl along his markings. It was just the two left, duelling for their lives. He redied himself to charge, but Lavellan gestured him back. This was a fight no one should get too close to.

Crassius sneered again, "Every enemy you fools kill only makes me stronger!"

Dorian gritted his teeth as he advanced grimly.

"You are a coward," he blasted Crassius back, "and a fool," lightening shot up from the ground paralyzing him, "and you will stain the earth with your presence no more." With an enormous press of power fire rushed up from the ground, almost drowning out the screams of the other mage as he burnt alive.

All four watched speechless. Dorian did not dispel the flames until nothing was left of Crassius but ash.

"Damn Sparkler," said Varric, finally breaking the silence, "remind me not to piss you off."

  
~~~~~~~~~~~

  
Fenris was staring at him.

It would be glaring from anyone else but he had seen the elf glare and this wasn't it. The group sat around the campfire eating stew and talking. Well Varric and Lilith did most of the talking. Dorian threw in a comment here or there, enough not to provoke questions about his silence. And the elf? The elf stared.

Dorian threw a questioning glance at Varric but the Dwarf just shrugged. Dorian could feel himself retreating as he looked at the remnants of his stew. What did the blasted elf want?

"Mage."

Dorian started and three pairs of eyes turned towards Fenris. The elf's stare remained pinned on him.

"Do magic." Fenris growled.

Dorian looked back at Fenris like he had grown a second head. He caught much the same expression on Varric's face, clearly the Dwarf had no insight into the strange request. Dorian cleared his throat with a nervous laugh.

"Any requests? I'm quite talented."

"No." The elf's tone left no room for jest.

"Very well." Dorian sighed dramatically. He looked at the fire in front of him and started to twirl his fingers. The flame leapt up, but not out, and then the flames started to dance. Tendrils of flame rose individually and twirled around each other. Tips of flame broke off and danced around the pillars taking the shapes of small, winged creatures. The dancing pillars rose higher stretching thinner and moving more and more quickly, twirling and bending as the wisps danced between and through them. All gathered together in a moment of crescendo hanging in the air for a moment and exploded. A shower of tiny sparks flew out like a firework but did not disapate as they gently floated down to cover them. Three pairs of eyes followed the sparks down. Fenris had not moved his eyes from Dorian.

Lilith spoke first. "Dorian that was beautiful."

Dorian smiled, one of his rare gentle smiles, "Only for you amicus."

His eyes flickered nervously back to Fenris. The elf stood and stalked around the campfire. He glowered as he leaned over Dorian his focus intense. Dorian would have thought the elf was scenting him but he didn't seem to be breathing at all. Finally, Fenris exhaled and spoke.

"You are not a blood mage."

It was a statement not a question but that didn't stop Dorian from leaping to his feet angrily.

"Of course I'm not!" Dorian crossed his arms and glared back at the elf. "It is the resort of the weak mind."

Fenris raised a single eyebrow at that. He leaned back a bit, regarding the other man with an assessing gaze. They stared off for a few moments. Finally Fenris made a small hmm sound not unlike Cassandra, nodded his head and walked away.

Three pairs of eyes turned to each other for an answer, but no one had one.

  
~~~~~~~~~~~

Dorian couldn't sleep. The events of the day set his teeth on edge and even if he could slip away he didn't want to know what was waiting for him in the fade tonight. Finally he grabbed his staff and slipped out of the tent, heading to the edge of the camp. If he couldn't sleep he might as well watch.

He didn't gather a wisp in his hand, he wanted to see the stars tonight, to know there was something greater in the world than his petty struggles. He nearly jumped out of his skin when the deep rumbling voice came from the dark nearly at his elbow.

"What are you doing mage?"

" _Venhedis_ Fenris! _Festival bei umo canavarum_."

Fenris smirked. "Not tonight mage."

Dorian bristled, "I have a name you know. Dorian, Dor- ee-an. It's not hexed or anything. I think."

Fenris merely harumphed and sat impasively. Dorian sat down with his back against the tree. Eventually, he broke the silence.

"How did you know, about the blood magic I mean."

Fenris sighed, a long tired sigh. "I can feel it."

"The markings? Of course how silly of me. Is it all magic or only blood magic?"

"All magic. They used to hurt constantly. After Danarius died they were not as painful but they are still sensitive to magic."

"And different types of magic feel different?"

"Yes. The style of Tevinter magic is one I know well but I've never felt it without the stain of blood magic. I thought there was something wrong at first."

"I wouldn't have had to use blood magic for that display though, even weak blood mage's don't have to cut themselves every time they light a candle."

"It wouldn't matter, the stain remains like something slick and rotten. It reminds me of corpses."

Dorian started to laugh, he nearly doubled over. Fenris just looked at him quizzically.

"I probably shouldn't be telling you this," he said catching his breath, "but I'm a Necromancer."

Fenris eyes grew wide and his eyebrows shot up into his hairline.

"Oh don't look at me like that, I'm not the one who lived in a mansion full of corpses."

Fenris scowled and crossed his arms. "It's hardly the same thing mage."

Dorian just started laughing again. "Oh we are a pair."

The elf beside him merely _harrumphed_ again and they both settled back to watch the stars.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter simply would not come out. It's not Betad so feel free to point out any mistakes. Hopefully the next one will be along soon  
> Festis bei umo canavarum - you will be the death of me.


	5. Fight or flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> News comes in the Hinterlands and Dorian faces his past.

The Raven arrived first thing the next morning.

Lilith was still yawning and rubbing her eyes when the scout called her aside with messages from the Nightingale. She followed, muttering about the indignity of spies before breakfast.

Dorian grabbed his kit and tramped through the brush to the nearby stream muttering, "some of us have to work to stay this beautiful."

Varric just stirred the pot, minding the porridge and wondering if today needed a bit of the coffee Josephine had finally brought in from Antiva. When the inquisitor stepped out of her tent scowling and worrying her lip he reached for his bag. This was definitely a morning for coffee.

"Fenris," Lilith said, turning to the elf who sat meticulously tending to his gear as he did every morning and night. "Will you please bring Dorian to me? I need to speak to him as soon as possible." Fenris rose with a graceful nod and turned silently down the path Dorian had trooped through a few minutes before. Lilith waited a few seconds before turning to Varric.

"Varric, I know very little escapes you, but I am going to have to deal with a private matter for Dorian and if any of this leaves the camp, or Creators forbid, ends up in one of your stories, may the Dread Wolf take me if you ever see your chest hair again."

"Woa, easy your inquisatorialness."Varric put up his hands in supplication, "Consider me blind, and deaf. Maybe you would like some of this Antivan coffee, it sounds like that kind of day."

"Oh I love you Varric." Lilith said, throwing her arms around him.

Varric filed her response away and made a note to speak to Josephine when they got back. He was never going on a mission again without coffee.

~~~~~~~~

Fenris found Dorian rather suddenly.

The barefoot elf was naturally silent in the woods and as he came around a boulder he was confronted by the sight of a very wet, very naked Dorian. Instinctively he paused in the shadows, the mage had not heard him approach. Dorian stood in the stream with his back to Fenris, the water reaching nearly to the top of his thighs. His olive skin sparkled in the first rays of the sun as water ran down from his hair and beaded across his shoulders and down his back. His back flexed as he pushed water-soaked hair back from his eyes and little rivulets ran down his spine towards... Fenris swallowed and shook his head, flushing with embarrassment. He was here to fetch the man, not gawk at him unawares.

He had seen Dorian fight and he knew that the man couldn't be as soft as the mages he knew from Tevinter but he never expected his body to be so beautiful. He cleared his throat quickly to make his presence known before his thoughts could go anywhere else embarrassing.

Dorian turned ready for battle, crouched, with magic coalescing in his hand, only to see a very embarrassed looking elf.

"Maker's breath Fenris, don't sneak up on me in the Hinterlands."

Fenris coughed into his hand awkwardly. "Apologies. The Inquisitor requested your presence. Apparently an urgent message arrived requiring your attention."

As Dorian took in the sight of Fenris, his ears twitching and pink and his eyes frantically flitting about to focus on anything but Dorian, he suddenly remembered that he was less than decent. His body was also taking a somewhat dangerous interest in beautiful elves that popped out of the ground on the banks of forest streams looking lithe and dangerous.

"Yes, well, I'll be along presently," he stammered, willing his body not to do anything embarrassing.

Fortunately, Fenris nodded and beat a hasty retreat without looking directly at him.

Dorian sighed. Best not to dwell on such things. He stepped out of the stream drying himself with a blast of warm air. He fixed his moustache and tamed his hair. It would have to do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was not good.

Whatever Lilith had told Dorian the news was plainly distressing. Varric and Fenris sat silently by the fire trying not to watch too obviously as the Inquisitor pulled Dorian aside and handed him the missive. If the man's suddenly rigid demenor wasn't enough of a tell, the grim smile on the face of the Inquisitor as she put a soothing hand on his shoulder would have told Varric all he needed to know.

"Look Broody, the Inquisitor mentioned that we might need to run a personal errand for Sparkler there and I get the impression it's not going to be pretty."

Fenris raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

"Look all I'm saying is take it easy on the guy, for both our sakes."

They were interrupted when Lilith came over to them with a false smile on her face. "Change of plans boys. We need to make a quick stop in Redcliff."

She turned to walk away then stopped and looked back at them adding as an afterthought, "it's probably not the Venatori this time. Probably."

Somehow it wasn't very comforting.

~~~~~~~

The trip was even more disconcerting.

Dorian didn't talk. He didn't banter on the road, he didn't chat over the campfire. Varric did his best to keep everyone distracted with his wild tales, but it was disconcerting all the same.

As they approached Redcliff a switch flipped, Dorian became painfully animated. His humour took on a distinct edge of self depreciation. He was nervous, jittery, and very, very angry.

"Redcliff seems to be recovering," Lilith commented, as they entered the port city.

"I don't think they're thrilled to see another Tevinter mage," snipped Dorian.

"Dorian," Lilith turned her eyes softened for a moment, "we don't need to do this. We can leave right now if you want."

Dorian deflated with a sigh. He pressed his eyes shut for a moment, then squared his shoulders. "No. We are here, it's better to know. Let's just get this over with."

Lilith nodded, best be quick then. She turned to the other two. "We are going to the tavern. Fenris, take point by the door. Varric stand with him until we make contact. If there is no immediate trouble scout around the inn, I don't want anything creeping up on us."

The two made no response beyond a nod, this was clearly no time for banter.

Lilith turned back to Dorain with a gentile half smile. "Right behind you."

Dorian stood ramrod straight and walked through the door without looking back. Lilith followed. Fenris and Varric took their positions by the door.

Fenris could hear the silence inside. Eleven hearing was excellent and with the practice of a warrior he could outline the movements of everyone inside. He could hear one set of footsteps approach, alone, not a warrior. This was a good sign. He listened for any response.

 _"Father._ "

Eyebrows shot up as the elf and the dwarf exchanged glances. Maybe this was not good. Wordlessly, Varric nodded and scurried off to scout around the tavern. If this was going to go south they needed to know right away.

Fenris remained still and imposing by the door. His eyes scanned the outlying area while his ears scanned the interaction inside. He would not be taken unawares by a Magister. Then the content of the conversation inside made its way into his conciousness.

_"I prefer the company of men. My father disapproves."_

Fenris blushed thinking of the stream. Then his brow furrowed. Why wouldn't his father have simply got him a body slave. Disgusting as the practice was, Fenris knew all too well it was not an uncommon solution to such problems.

_"He taught me to hate blood magic. The resort of the weak mind those are his words. But what did you do when your precious heir refused to play pretend for the rest of his life? You tried to, change me."_

_Venhedis,_ he knew what that meant. The smell of blood filed his memory, the agony of ritual. No wonder the mage ran. Fenris fists clenched, he was filled with a sudden, blinding rage. He wanted to burst through the door and tear the magisterial heart out. Perhaps rip out the man's spine and beat him with it. Unbidden his thoughts went back to another tavern, another Magister, another betrayal.

_You are no longer my Master!_

_I had no choice Leto._

Blood and betrayal, all the Imperium ever had to offer. He had thought it's brightest sons would have been immune. It seems he was wrong.

Steps approached the door, Lilith came out alone just as Varric approached and gave her a nod for all clear. She sighed.

"They are going to talk, and then we are going to drink. A lot."

Varric smiled and gave a little bow, "Your wish is my command your inquisatorialness."

~~~~~~

They all had a hangover heading back the next day. Fenris was no more sullen than usual but Dorian was still withdrawn. By the end of the day even Varric was unerrved.

"You know if he gets any worse I'm going to have to call him 'Broody'."

Dorian had wandered off after picking through his dinner. Lilith had gone off to her tent to finish responding to whatever missives the spymaster had decided couldn't wait until Skyhold. The Elf and Dwarf were sitting together at the campfire. Varric was polishing Bianca lovingly while Fenris sat in silence. Finally Fenris turned to the Dwarf and held out his hand.

"The Brandy" he demanded inscrutably.

Varric's eyes widened, "I have no idea what you're talking about elf."

"I know you too well Dwarf. You would not leave without a stash of Antivan brandy and if you did not pilfer more from the inn then Isabella is a chantry sister."

Varris harrumphed but he reached for his bag none the less. "They didn't have Antivan. Cheap bastards. Hey, where are you going with that?!"

Fenris had snatched the bottle and was walking away into the dark.

"It's isn't for me Dwarf."

Varric shook his head and went back to oiling his crossbow.

~~~

Dorian sat against a rock looking up into the dark expanse twinkling with lights. They were too far away to judge him, to make demands, to find him wanting. Footsteps approached and a bottle of Brandy appeared over his shoulder.

"The Dwarf has threatened to give you my nickname if you don't stop brooding."

Dorian smirked, "And you are here to talk me out of my melancholy."

"No. I am here to ask you to keep sulking." Dorian couldn't be sure in the dark but he thought he herd a slight smile in the elf's voice.

"Perhaps you could teach me then. I always learned from the best." He took a swig and passed the bottle back to Fenris who settled on the ground beside him. Several minutes elapsed before Fenris broke the silence.

"You did well to run."

Dorian blanched and turned towards him. "You heard?!"

Fenris shrugged. "Elves have good hearing. And we were not sure it wasn't a trap."

Dorian deflated visibly. "Well now you know. I'm a degenerate, a pariah, a moral evil... "

Fenris interrupted firmly, "You are a man who refused to lie. The Imperium would not be safe for you."

"Ah yes, lying. They teach us that with our first steps. Just between murdering your rivals and how to pair your wines correctly."

Silence reined for a bit as the bottle passed back and forth.

"He's a good man my father, deep down."

"Did he not offer to buy you a body slave?" The question leapt out of Fenris mouth before he could stop it. "Forgive me. This is not the moment for that question."

"I've never been with a slave Fenris." Dorian's voice turned a bit firm. "Well I can't vouch for the brothels, a man needs some outlet, void take it all. But I've never wanted to be with someone who did not want to be with me. Apparently the same courtesy was too much to expect."

"You were engaged."

"Livia Herathinos. Bright girl, hourglass figure, wicked tongue. Relieved I'm gone I expect. We'd have lived in luxurious despair, despising each other while I waited to take my father's place in the Magesterium."

Silence reigned a few more minutes before Dorian continued.

"I never thought much about slavery before I came down south. It was just the way things were. Slaves made the food, cleaned the house tended the gardens. I saw more of my nanny than my mother growing up. She was important to me, still is. I might not have made it out if she hadn't told me what my beloved father had planned. I never thought she wasn't a person just because she was a slave."

Fenris shook his head. "How did you survive in Tevinter?"

"No idea. Ah well, I probably won't survive this anyway so what's the harm?"

"Fool mage." Fenris spoke without any heat. He passed the bottle back to Dorian.

"Pity too, to deprive the world of so much beauty." Then after a few moments, "I'm not one to look a gift Brandy in the mouth but, aren't you supposed to hate me? Or at least mildly despise me?"

Fenris crossed his arms over his knees looking thoughtful. "You are proving surprisingly difficult to hate."

"Ha!" Dorian smirked, "that's me, ever the disappointment. Don't worry you can still hate me in public."

"You mean when you are off playing the evil Magister?"

"Precisely so."

Fenris paused. "You are better as you are."

Dorian smiled the most genuine smile he had seen on the man's face. It was fighting desperately not to be hopeful, and failing miserably. "Be careful Fenris, we might become friends."

"I suppose I can imagine worse fates, if I try very hard." Fenris deadpaned.

Dorian smiled again but it had a hint of deeper sadness behind it. "I have precious few friends. Those I have, I mean to keep."

Fenris just smirked. Well the man could try.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't think of any other way to get Fenris to come along to Redcliff. So I'm just saying that there wasn't time to wait for them to return, get the letter, and then go to Redcliff and still meet the retainer. So Mother Giselle went to Lelliana who forwarded the request to the inquisitor.


	6. Step, ball, change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Small plots thicken at skyhold

He was not staring at the beatiful elf. He absolutely was _not_.

They had been hit by a small band of Red Templars just before they made it back to Skyhold. Fenris, rushing in headlong as he always did, had taken a bad hit from one of those strange, rouge-like Templars whose hands had warped into spiked protrusions. The armour had taken the worst of it but had been severely damaged in the exchange. Several of the runes that had been crushed and the elf was stripped to the waist while Lilith examined the nasty, red wound for the slightest trace of the contaminating metal.

Fenris's muscles rippled as he turned, trying hopelessly to see the gouge streaking down his back. The shining, white markings twisted and swirled along his muscles, adding beauty to the already incredible definition. The rich, olive skin stood out in contrast. Was it as smooth as it looked?

"Sparkler, If you drool on Bianca I'm gonna kill you."

Dorian's mouth snapped shut sharply. "I have no idea what you are talking about." He was not blushing. Dorian Pavus did _not_ blush.

"Right Sparkler, and I'm the king of the nugs."

"Oh shut up Varric." He snapped, storming forward to talk to Lilith. In retrospect possibly not the best way to hide his distraction. Ah well, too late now.

"It's no good Fenris" Lilith opined. "Several of the runes are beyond repair and they provide no protection against red lyrium corruption in your markings. You need new armour"

"It's not that simple," Fenris growled in a way that absolutely did not resonate through Dorian. "This armour is enchanted, the runes allow me to phase with the armour. Without them the ability is quite taxing, my effectiveness on the field will be diminished."

"Where did you get it made?"

"Danarius." Fenris spat the word as though it were covered in slime.

Dorian wilted at the tone, perhaps he should take his evil, magesterial self elsewhere. Then a thought occurred. "Amicus, you realize what this means don't you?" Two pairs of eleven eyes turned towards him quizzically. "You are going to make Dagna the happiest Dwarf in Thedas."

  
~~~~~~~~

Fenris was not prepared for Dagna.

He asked Varric for information of course and while he felt comforted by the descriptions of her compitance he did not know what to think of a version of Sandal that chattered more than Dorian.

Of course the moment he stepped into the undercroft Dagna squealed.

"Oooh, Is this him, is this him? It's amazing, he's amazing. Wow! Can I touch them?"

Fenris flashed a slightly panicked look at the Inquisitor.

"Perhaps we should start with introductions. Fenris, this is Dagna, our expert Arcanist. Dagna, this is Fenris, one of Hawke's legendary companions and now warrior of the Inquisition."

"Is it true the markings are Lyrium?"

"Yes. They were carved into my flesh so that I could rip the still-beating hearts from the bodies of my enemies."

Dagna's eyes widened excitedly but she didn't seem in the least put off. It was... disconcerting.

"Anyways," Lilith interrupted, "Fenris need new armour that not only allows him to phase with at will but protects his markings from corruption by red lyrium. We have his old armour here." She added it as an afterthought.

Dagna tore her eyes away from Fenris to snatch the armour. She perused the work briefly before snorting dismissively. "No creativity, we need new thinking. Ooh, I can probably salvage the lyrium though." Then she turned a penatrating eye back towards Fenris. "I need your measurements. What materials do you prefer? I need a full schematic of your markings. Do you want the same style of armour? Can I see those gauntlets? I need a sample of your markings, just a little one? Oh, do you want the armour to glow?"

Fenris was now looking well and truly panicked. It really shouldn't have been so funny. Lilith felt a bit guilty as she hid a smile behind her hand. "Look Fenris, give Dagna all the information you can. Trust me you'll be glad you did. I'll take Harritt for a drink so you two can take any measurements in relative peace." The Inquisitor was slowly backing away gesturing to the blacksmith as she spoke. Just before she slipped out the door she added, "and Dagna, if you don't stop to eat I'll send Sera after you."

The door clicked shut.

~~~~~

Fenris was bored.

After the extremely invasive and embarrassing meeting with Dagna he had only to wait for his armour. Fenris hated waiting. He still spent half the day working with the recruits but he found himself at loose ends the rest of the time. Hawke was gone, connecting with his friend in the Wardens and the Inquisitor was waiting for clearance to meet up with them. The garden was too restful, he needed stimulation. He couldn't drink all day at the tavern, whatever Bull might say. Eventually, Fenris found his way to the library.

Of course the Mage was there. Where else would he be? Fenris had come up through the rotunda, admiring Solas's work. He didn't yet feel comfortable around the hedge mage but he admired the skill and dedication of the artist. If nothing else he felt confidant that Solas was not weak enough to succumb to possession. The thought lead him to study Dorian. His strength was not like Solas's. It wore a flashy appearance but there was substance there, and something else. Something hopeful and a touch idealistic. Something hidden within that the Imperium had not yet been able to crush. Fenris felt a sudden flare of determination laced with anger. If this man could grow up an Altus and still manage to retain some decency he would not let that spark be crushed. The Imperium took too much. it would not have this too.

Of course at that moment Dorian looked up. His face registered surprise at seeing Fenris then a smile, casual but friendly. "Fenris, I didn't expect to see you here."

Fenris smiled and his ears twitched. He was uncertain how to navigate this newfound amicability with the mage. "Ah, yes. I have extra time since I am waiting for my armour. I realized I had not had the opportunity to read in some time."

"Ah yes, libraries on the run are rather thin on the ground." Dorian replied, "is there anything you were interested in.

"I had not considered," then with a somewhat embarrassed look, "I am out of practice." Reading was a skill Fenris had worked hard to acquire it rankled that he had let it slip in the past few years. His ears drooped a bit but he still managed to look defiant. He would not be embarrassed by matters beyond his control.

Dorian seemed to understand what he was saying. "Yes of course you need something enjoyable. A tale to get lost in, that's how I came to love reading. Unfortunately, the selection here is abysmal. I can't imagine you are terribly interested in outdated magical theories of the south. The rest is largely Chanrty propaganda. If you want twenty volumes on whether Divine Galetea took a shit on Sunday, this is evidently the place to find it." Dorian crossed his arms, pondering for a moment. "You know, I think I know just the place to find some casual literature. Getting our hands on it might require some questionable activities." Dorian's smile turned absolutely devilish. "Let's go find Sera."

  
~~~~~

Sera and Fenris actually got along alright. After one night of drinking which included any number of threats to "stick his dangly bits" if he wasn't nice to Dorian, the two reached an amicable understanding. Neither had any use for the Dalish or any patience for expectations put on them because of their race. If Fenris felt no need to keep up with her antics he at least found them amusing and they both had any number of bets running with Varric. For all that, he really didn't want her to know that Dorian proposed breaking into Cassandra's room in order to steal him reading material. He was pleasantly surprised and grateful when Dorian made no mention of the books beyond insisting that this was some sort of prank they were pulling on the Seeker.

"'Bout bloody time you two had some fun. Magey pants always has his nose in some high-and-mighty pish. Alright, wha'cha need?"

"Only your terribly talented fingers to get us through the door and perhaps your delightful skills of observation as a lookout."

"Ppplbt, easy peasy. First round's on you then eh?"

"Excellent" Dorian reached out and took her hand to strike the bargin.

Half an hour later they were in Cassandra's apartments. Dorian was scowling at the shelf as though it had personally offended him. "Well I'm not making you read that" he stated emphatically pointing to a copy of Swords and Shields.

Fenris groaned, "Does she have everything Varric has ever written?"

"Possibly. Just at the moment I'm trying to find you something with a little more swordplay and a little less heaving bosoms. Unless, of course you like heaving bosoms. Far be it for me to judge."

"I will heave your bosoms out the window if you don't get on with it." Fenris snipped the words but the tips of his ears blushed. The last thing he needed was having to ask Dorian for help reading about heaving bosoms.

Finally, Dorian selected four books and randomized the remainder. They couldn't cover the theft, and after all this was supposed to be a prank. Just then Sera's long whistle could be heard from the ramparts above. The two turned tail and ran.

~~~~~~

"I don't know what you think you are doing young man!"

Lilith could hear the sharp voice of Mother Giselle above her on the rotunda. She felt a strong tinge of annoyance. The Inquisitor had come to enjoy a chat with Solas about magical theories she did not want to play nursemaid to another petty quarrel.

"I'm being clucked at be a hen, evidently."

Dorian's voice was defensive. Mother Giselle had seemed displeased when the party returned but Lilith assumed there had simply been some difficulty with supplies or the refugees. There were quite enough reasons for anyone's patience to be stretched thin right now she could hardly be surprised. At that moment she remembered that the letter regarding Dorian had been originally addressed to Mother Giselle. She took the stairs with determination.

"What's going on here?"

Mother Giselle looked embarrassed. Dorian's arms were crossed as he turned to her. "It seems the Revered Mother is concerned about my undue influence over you."

"It is just concern. Your worship you must know how this looks."

"You might need to spell it out my dear." Poor Dorian looked like he was waiting for a blow.

"This man is of Tevinter. His presence at your side, the rumours alone..."

"Ah..." Lilith said. She knew the game now so she worked her face into a mask of gentle penitence. "You've spoken to Josephine I take it."

Mother Giselle looked confused for a moment. She could see Dorian crooking a slightly confused eyebrow at her but she kept her focus purely on Mother Giselle. All these political turns with Josie would count for something now.

"I'm so sorry Revered Mother. I had hoped to have these matters dealt with before you heard. I knew the Orlesians would want to pair me off but I had no idea they would disrespect the Chantry so." Liliths eyes were huge, and terribly sincere.

Mother Giselle was a bit thrown by what seemed like such a sudden and complete victory. "Thank you Your Worship. But it is not the Chantry whose reputation concerns me at this moment."

"I must say that's very big of you. But still, we should do something about the rumours mention of Chancellor Roderick. It is simply wrong to drag the dead through these petty dregs of gossip."

Mother Giselle stared, absolutely confused. Lilith gently nudged Dorian. It was time he jumped in. Of course the scion of house Pavus could play this game with the best."

"Inquisitor, you can't mean there has been gossip about the dear Chancellor?"

"I'm afraid so," she responded, turning fully to Dorian still looking sincerely crestfallen. "I spoke to Josephine just last week. Rumour has, of course, paired me in torrid affairs with every member of the inner circle, our advisors, and several soldiers who I'm quite certain don't actually exist. On top of that I am apparently carrying on with several member of the Chantry including Mother Giselle and, previously of course, Chancellor Roderick. I don't mind the ordinary rumours of course, but I did think the Andrastrians would have had some respect for their own Chantry."

Mother Giselle was stuttering and turning vaguely purple. Whatever end she had been envisioning to the conversation, this was emphatically not it.

"That is dreadfully unfortunate" said Dorian, matching his expression to Lilith's, "it seems though that those who take a stand against tradition to do what is right have always been treated thus."

"Yes," Lilith turned back towards the unfortunate cleric, "and if Mother Giselle has the fortitude not to concern herself with such petty things then we can do no less than follow her example. After all," and here her words developed the slightest sharpness, "truth does not bow to rumour here."

"I... see" stammered mother Giselle. "I meant no disrespect your worship, Only to ask after the young man's intentions. I you feel he is without ulterior motive, then I humbly beg forgiveness of you both." She bowed and made her retreat with all the dignity she could muster.

"Well that's something."

"She didn't get to you did she?" Lilith's concern was genuine this time.

"No, no. It takes more to get to me than thinly veiled accusations amicus. Incidentally, remind me not to get on your bad side you were brilliant."

"You know you don't have to fight your own battles all the time Dorian. You aren't alone anymore."

Dorians eyes glistened suspiciously. He swallowed before he continued. "No don't speak. I detest confession, and I'd like to get this one over with. Allow me to say I'll stand beside you - against Corypeus, my countrymen, or spurious rumour - so long as you'll have me."

Lilith dragged him down into a fierce hug. "There is always a place for you here Dorian."

A few moments passed before either could speak. It was Lilith who broke the silence. "Come on, Let's show these amateurs how it's done. I'm not having a fake rumour affair with you unless I get at least a fake rumour baby out of it."

Dorian burst into relieved laughter. "You know I think I might be a bad influence on you after all."

"Good," Lilith grinned. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of things I wanted to set up this chapter. Besides, it always bothered me that you couldn't point out the rumours about mother Giselle when she was acting all high and mighty. So I rewrote the exchange. I promise, next time, I'll develop an outline before I write my story.


	7. Development

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so I wan't sure whether to include the Solas/Lavellan interaction here because I have a lot of ideas for them that my spin off into a sister flick so that this doesn't get too cluttered. But this fell right in from the previous chapter and so I did. I'm sorry the chapter is short after such a break, I'm hoping to follow it with a larger one.

  
Solas was getting genuinely angry.

He didn't often allow the Inquisitor to talk him into joining these evenings of socialization. Granted, the quality of the wine had improved considerably after pressure from both of their resident Tevinters. Solas suspected Fenris had more to do with it since Dorian, for all his complaining, was perfectly content to swill Fereldan ale. Not that he would ever admit such a thing.

At the moment though, Dorian was doing just that whilst laughing loudly with Lilith about their petty rumours of imagined children.

"What do you think of Hessarian as a middle name?" asked Dorian.

Lilith nearly spit out her ale laughing. "As in the Arcon who killed your prophet? Creators Dorian, you are wicked."

"Well he showed mercy at the end. I'd say it's just the right degree of penitent and subversive."

Solas felt his grip tighten on his goblet. He felt like he was watching some cruel parody as the Dalish elf and the Tevinter Altus joked about the crude rumours they would start. Did she have no regard for her heritage? Did she pretend not to know what had been done to her people? She had been the first of her clan. Even with the indifferent and haphazard information of the Dalish she should know better.

"Ohh, should I cheat on you with Varric? Then we won't know the father."

"Easy Lilly-bird. That's why I write the stories, so I'm not in them. Besides, I think the Iron Bull would be much more scandalous."

Bull raised his oversized glass affably. "You know me boss, always happy to help."

The metal of the goblet buckled under his grip. Solas looked down. He hadn't even realized. "Excuse me." He spoke sharply but, he hoped, quietly.

He shouldn't have hoped.

~~~~~~~~~

Solas stood in the rotunda looking up at his work. He heard the door behind him. He knew the step. He did not turn around

"I have a slight impression," the Inquistor said, "that you did not appreciate the talk tonight."

Solas did not relax his shoulders. His arms were folded behind his back as he kept his focus pointed at the mural. "It is not my place to criticize Inquisitor."

Lilith's voice became just a touch softer. "I would know your opinion Hahren. I cannot promise to agree, but I would hear you."

Solas relaxed his shoulders incrementally but when he turned he was scowling.

"You are the Inquisitor, a position of dignity and responsibility. For the fist time a thousand years one of our people has been raised to a position of power, of influence. And this is what you do with it? Whether you wish it or not you are a symbol of your people to those who have long despised us. Is this truly the image you would leave?"

The silence stretched long between them. Emotions played across Lilith's face. Sadness. Resignation. She took a deep breath.

"I know I often seem frivolous to you Solas, and I'm sorry."

She took a deep breath and ran her fingers along the edge of his desk.

"I was telling the truth to Mother Giselle. I did not invent those rumours, Josephine informed me of their existence. You may not know that this is not the first time I have had a talk with Josephine about rumours."

She breathed again, she would make him understand.

"When we were still in Haven, Josephine asked me several questions about my clan, and how we lived. She wanted to know in part, so she could deal with the rumours swirling around then. Do I need to tell you what they were? Kidnappings, blood magic, sacrificing shem children by the light of the full moon. Do I need to point out the cost of rumours like that?"

She straightened her shoulders, her voice became more firm.

"If I have learned anything about the place of elves in Thedas it is that standing on our dignity gets us neither trust nor respect. There will be rumours about me, there will be wagging tongues. If it is a choice between my dignity and the lives of the innocent, then I will choose the rumours that do not end in dead eleven children."

Solas had turned back to the wall as she spoke. She looked up to see his shoulders slumped, his ears drooped. His voice was soft when he finally spoke.

"You shame me Da'len. I have lived long enough to know better, forgive me?"

"There is nothing to forgive Hahren."

Solas turned, but this time with a gently quirked smile. "Perhaps I should be calling you that, you certainly have a wisdom beyond your years."

Lilith's ears pinked in embarrassment, but she smiled as she shook her head. "No. I have so much more to learn," she quirked an eyebrow playfully, "besides, I could hardly call you Da'len."

Solas laughed at that. Some of the tension left him as he shook his head. It was funny. More so than she knew.

"Then we will teach each other lethallan."

Lilith's smile was bright. "As equals, I would like that."

Solas smile softened as his eyes focused far away. "As would I, lethallan. As would I."

~~~~~~~~~

Dorian was drunk, Very very Drunk. He hadn't been this drunk since he came back from Redcliff after meeting his father.

After Solas left Lilith had slipped away muttering mutinously about Josephine and nobles and didn't she had enough to do? Then The Iron Bull had pulled out some hideous mix and dared him to drink it. He should have known better when Varric refused with "Not a chance Tiny, I'm not that crazy" and Fenris merely shook his head and swirled his wine. Stupid beautiful elf. He knew.

Bull called it Maraas-Lok. It felt like it could peel the paint off the walls. He had no idea what it had done to the inside of his throat and he didn't care. What he did want to know was where in the void he had ended up. He got lost on the way to his room and was somewhere overgrown. Improvements hadn't reached to this garden. Was it a garden? There was certainly a great deal of undergrowth. He twisted and felt a pull on the edge of his robe.

With an undignified squawk that Dorian would deny until his dying day he lept sideways. Trying to pull away from one grasping thorn caught him on another, every flailing movement only seemed to entangle him more and panic was beginning to rise. This was ridiculous. Fighting red Templars and ancient darkspawn Magisters only to be foiled by a shrubbery.

He thought it couldn't get any worse when a low chuckle sounded from a dark archway.

"What are you doing mage?"

Dorian froze. Of course, of _course_. He couldn't possibly humiliate himself without an audience. And of course it would be the beautiful, graceful elf. Who never tripped over anything, who never showed weakness, and who Dorian inexplicably, desperately wanted to _like_ him.

Of course that only made his voice sharper as he replied. "I was merely taking some fresh air if you must know."

Fenris took a half step forward into the moonlight and crossed his arms leaning lazily against a pillar.

"And you decided to frolic in the moonlight?"

Dorian gasped, hoping the dark would hide his darkening cheeks. "I did no such thing! I was innocently enjoying the evening air when I was accosted."

"Accosted," said Fenris, one eyebrow arching up, "by a bush?"

"It's hardly a surprise," Dorian quipped, "Everyone wants to get my clothes off."

A deep rumble came from Fenris. His face returned to it's implacable mask as he righted himself. His hair glowed in the moonlight as he stalked towards the Altus. Dorian was frozen in place gaping as the lithe arms reached up, grasping the sword and pulling it from it's sheath. Oh no, not now. He shut his eyes tight as the blade whooshed down first on one side than the other. He peeked as he heard the blade return to it's sheath. Fenris was standing there utterly unperturbed.

"You are free."

"My hero." Said Dorian, far more breathily than he would ever admit.

Fenris rolled his eyes at the man in front of him. "Come Mage, you are drunk and you should be in bed."

Belatedly, Dorian realized he should probably be doing something with his feet. But the world was tilting so oddly and he was trying very hard not to fall into the arms of his shiny rescuer.

Of course that meant he fell the other way and Fenris had to leap to catch him.

Somehow, Dorian found himself buried in the elf's neck. One hand around the other man's waist, the other on his shoulder. He was going to push himself up just as soon as he could figure out which way that was. But the skin he was leaning against was so warm and soft. The smell reminded his of the warm sun and spices of Minrathos tinged with magic, the power of a storm. He inhaled deeply.

"You smell like home."

Fenris tensed under him, his breath caught in his throat. Slowly he brought his hand up and rested it on Dorian's back. Something warm clenched inside him at the words. Home. Did he really have one? Kirkwall had been home though it was not a smell he remembered fondly. He didn't remember growing up. He had always felt cast adrift, struggling to establish a connection he could not remember. This man too was cast adrift in his way. Was it better to remember or not?

Fenris sighed, this was probably a question for another time. Some time when he didn't have an elegant semi-conciousness mage draped over him. And, nuzzling, was the mage nuzzling?

"Come, bed." He finally said.

Dorian let out a great sigh, then muttered into his shoulder. "... trying to get my clothes off. 'Snot fair... so pretty."

Fenris tried to hurry Dorian. The man was clearly about to pass out and he wasn't fond of the idea of carrying him to his room. As quickly as he could he half lead, half carried the semi-conscious man to his rooms. There was a very awkward moment where he had to prop Dorian against the wall as he tried to find the key to unlock his quarters. Drunk Dorian thought this was hilarious.

By the time the door was open Fenris was about out of patience. He looked around. The room was smaller than he expected, the furnishings simple. A small bed. A desk. A corner stacked with crates as a makeshift bookshelf. For all his airs the Altus had no more than anyone else here, and less than some.

He was gentler than he expected to be as he lowered Dorian onto the bed. He even deigned to remove the other man's boots, though that was as far as he would go. A frown creased his brow as Dorian curled into a tiny ball whimpering softly. Fenris sighed and pulled the blankets over him.

He felt oddly protective of Dorian and he wasn't sure how he felt about that. Dorian never asked anything from him, but he found himself feeling the urge to give, to protect. It reminded him uncomfortably of his time as a slave. If Dorian had acted like such service was his due it would be one thing, but he never did. He loved attention but used it as a distraction. He never wanted anyone to see he needed help. Fenris could respect that.

He padded softly to the door and turned back to look at the man curled in a lump on the bed. His mouth twisted wryly as he turned and spoke to no one.

"Goodnight Dorian."


	8. Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I almost forgot that the game has some plot, I'm trying to get back to that. Also Thank you all so much, every comment and Kuddo warms my heart. There are not a lot of good things happening in my life right now, but you are one of them.

Dorian hated the sun.

On other days he might bemoan the lack of the warm, bright light of the north but today, he absolutely hated the sun. He awoke with his head pounding, the blood rushing so loudly through his ears that he didn't think he could hear anything else. Then he made the mistake of groaning.

The light of the sun was directly in his eyes and he was debating whether the relief of shifting out of the light would be worth the pain of moving. He compromised by pulling the blanket up over his head. Even the slight movement made him more aware of his bodies aches. He felt buckles digging into his sides. Kaffas, was he still in his robes? But not his boots. That was good.

Now he simply had to remember what happened. There was Dear Lilith trying to cheer him up after that spat with Mother Giselle, horrible woman. Then there was drinking. Void take Bull and his terrible poisonous brew. What was that stuff made of anyways? Then there was a garden, moonlight... Fenris. Dorian groaned again, Maker what had he said to the elf?

He heard a remarkably quiet shuffle disturbingly near.

"Hello Cole," said Dorian to the young man who had materialized perching at the end of his bed.

"Hello" said Cole, or perhaps his floppy brimmed hat said it, Dorian wasn't quite sure. "You're hurting."

"Yes Cole thank you for stating the obvious."

"I can help." Dorian dared to peek out of the blankets again, squinting towards the boy. He was holding a small flask containing some hideous looking brown mixture. Dorian didn't care, he reached out for the flask.

"The Iron Bull said it would help. He wanted you to feel better. Poor kid needs to loosen up."

"Thank you Cole" Dorian said as softly as he could. He tipped his head back and swallowed, blinking as he felt the position tingling, taking the worst of the aches away.

"Dorian, you said I could ask you questions."

Dorian tried to stifle a groan. "I did, didn't I." It wasn't a question.

"The Iron Bull thinks you like Fenris. You want Fenris to like you. Fenris likes you but doesn't want to. Why wouldn't he want to like you?"

Dorian put his head in his hands. "Cole, you know that people hurt Fenris a long time ago."

"Yes. _My pretty pet, little wolf, all mine_. They cut him, made him glow. He is very angry. He killed the man but not the pain. It hurts to make him stronger."

"Err, yes quite. Well you see, those people were mages from Tevinter, like me."

"They aren't like you Dorian."

"But I am still a mage of a noble house in Tevinter. I remind him of things and people I'm certain he would rather forget."

Cole's face twisted in confusion. "You are afraid, but you aren't like them, you don't fit. Always a square peg in a round hole, fighting to make it better. You want good things Dorian, so does he. He could help."

"Right now I would settle for not reminding Fenris of every horrible thing he has ever known."

"You do remind him but it's different. Warm sun, spices on the wind, a little girl runs between the laundry laughing. Servants chatting in the kitchen, laughing over the meal. Always on the outside looking in. Would it have been different with you? You said he smelled like home."

Dorian closed his eyes. Home. He was too tired even to be bitter at the word. What he wouldn't give to have a few happy memories back, unsullied. Then a thought occurred. "Cole..."

"Yes, he would like it. They all would. Sera will be glad. She will threaten bees but she won't mean it."

"Good, right then. Thank you Cole."

"Varric saved you some coffee, _poor Sparkler will need it after last night_. He likes to help."

"Cole, you are a credit to fade spirits and floppy hats everywhere." Dorian smiled, he had a plan now. He always felt better when he had a plan.

The boy started to vanish as Dorian headed out the door to breakfast.

"I helped."

~~~~

As luck would have it, Varric was Dorrian's first stop. He didn't want to go through official channels for this so after some charming and a number of promises to rig certain bets his way, Varric was on board.

Then he needed the inquisitor. He proposed it as a team building exercise, an exchange of culture. A pleasant surprise for the members of the team that worked so hard for her. She played a hard line until he resorted to pouting, wicked woman, but he never doubted she would be on board. The Inquisitor could cajole some resources from Josie when the time was right. Maker, now he just needed the final piece.

After a quick trip to the garden he headed in the direction of the kitchens.

It was after the lunch rush and the area was down to its usual buzz. The kitchen maids still squeaked and dodged out of his way. Dorian steeled himself and approached a rather dower looking woman who was glaring at him menacingly.

"Excuse me my dear, I am looking for Orana..." The woman merely grunted and raised an eyebrow, Dorian continued, "slender even woman, blonde, originally from Te...." Dorian cleared his throat, possibly Tevinter was not the best identifier, "she worked for the Champion in Kirkwall." He finished quickly. The infernal woman was still glaring at him but now she had crossed her arms over her ample bosom.

"Oi, just 'cause she's an elf don't mean you lot can 'ave at 'er. She don't 'ave to go anywhere she don't want."

Dorian eyebrows had dissapeared into his hairline. " _Kaffas_ woman! That's not... I never... I mean, really!" Dorian sputtered.

"Messere Dorian!" Orana's voice piped up, coming through the back door with a large basket of potatoes.

"Oh thank sweet Andrastre, you've come to save me." Dorian gestured towards the rather heavy basket in Orana's hands, "Where do you need that?"

The cook was still glaring but after an awkward moment gestured with her head, "Back through there. That lot's for tomorrow."

"Of course it is," then turning to Orana, "may I, my dear?"

Orana looked quizzical and nodded. With a gesture the basket lifted and whisked through the air into the pantry indicated. Of course one of the serving girls shrieked and dove under the table. Southerners and their bloody fear of magic.

"Lovely, now that that's out of the way I wonder if I could borrow you for a few minutes my dear, I had an idea I would like to run by you."

Orana nodded as she wiped her hands on her apron and opened the door out of the kitchens.

"Oi Vint," the taciturn voice rang out again, "I'm watchin' you."

"Truly, words cannot express my gratitude." And with a bow, Dorian flounced out the door with a rather confused Orana following after.

~~~~~~~~~

Poor Orana had never had to face down the full force of the Pavus charm.

"And so you see my dear you are the only one who could do this. It is a dream of mine to foster relations bring greater understanding and teamwork and it's all utterly hopeless without your help."

She never had a chance. "Well, that is... I would like... I mean, yes."

"We would want you to join us."

"Oh Ma-Messere Dorian I couldn't!"

"Nonsense."

"No, no there is so much to do. No one else could organize everything correctly. I can't leave in the middle."

"Perhaps you will join us at the end then. I'm sure all involved will wish to sing you praises." Dorian smiled one of his most charming, soft smiles.

Orana stuttered "If... if you think it would be proper."  
  
"Of course my dear, Fenris would have my head otherwise. Speaking of which," here Dorian leaned in conspiratorially, "I was rather hoping to make it a surprise. Varric knows of course, we'll need him for supplies, so if you know anything Fenris particularly enjoys..."

Orana's smile became a bit more knowing, but her face masked back to a placid calm almost immediately. "Of course, I'll see to it."

Just then a new voice rang out across the courtyard. "Doooorian."

" _Venhedis_ , the Inquisitor. And if I know that tone she's dragging my off somewhere dreadful."

Lilith bounded up with a little hop. "Oh hello Orana. Has Dorian recruited you into his little scheme?"

"Yes, your honour."

"Wonderful, I can't wait. You'll have some time to organize things though because Dorian is coming with me. We've heard from Hawke. He needs us to meet him in Crestwood and, wouldn't you know it, they are having a problem with the undead."

" _Vishante Kaffas,_ will everyone just stop raising the dead? I'm never going to get any research done."

"Hmm, yes. Apparently the inhabitants of the village tried asking the undead if they wouldn't mind putting off their invasion until a more convenient time. For some reason they were terribly unaccommodating."

Dorian raised a cynical eyebrow. "You've been spending time with Madam de Fer haven't you? Alright fine, but you still owe me a new set of robes after the Fallow Mire."

"Ooh yes, the merchants have some lovely plaidweave on sale."

" _Plaidweave!!?!?!_ " Dorian's voice shot up several registers. "Absolutely not. Amicus, how could you even _think_ of doing such a thing to me."

Lilith's eyes sparkled with laughter as she turned to Orana. "Creators, are they all like this?"

Orana couldn't help smiling back, "Worse, usually. But we have a saying, at least in the better houses. ' _With the rich and mighty, always a little patience._ '"

Her smile softened a bit. "I like it." Then the inquisitor turned back to Dorian. "Anyways, we have to debrief and pack. I can't wait for you to see what Dagna made for Fenris."

"Well yes..." Dorian stuttered a bit, "Dagna's work is always inspiring."

"Mhmmm." Lilith arched an eyebrow but didn't comment on Dorian's blush. "Thanks again Orana, feel free to stay in touch with Josephine. She should know roughly when we will be back."

Orana curtsied, "Yes your honour."

Then the impulsive Dalish leaned over and gave the other elf a fierce hug. Orana flushed, not certain what to do with her hands and before she could decide Lilith pulled away.

"See you when we get back."

Dorian bowed, "thank you again my dear."

The two friends took their leave headed back to the main hall. Orana smiled a moment watching them go, then she turned resolutely towards the kitchens. She had so much to do.


	9. Friends and Fears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian and Fenris work together as our favorite spirit of compassion brings dark things to light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So first of all I love each and every one of you. I know it's been a while and I haven't been responding to comments. Things in RL have been hard of late but they are getting better and every bit of encouragement has helped me immesurably. I will respond to everyone and thank you. thank you so much.

Fenris looked amazing.  
  
Dorian was struck speechless at the sight of the warrior as he emerged in his new armour. Rather than being made to hide the markings, the new had lyrium of its own carved into the armour, harmonizing with them while retaining all the sleek intimidation of the original design. Lyrium runes appeared to have been implanted into the body of the armour itself and these designs appeared to mirror the markings on Fenris's body. The spiked gauntlets had been remade, doubtless with better hinges and now with each spike tipped and traced in lyrium. The pattern of spikes at the shoulders had also been redesigned. A series of smaller spikes of hardened leather protected the back of Fenris's neck and sloped into his shoulders.  
  
As Fenris stalked forward Dorian thought of nothing so much as a feral wolf with glowing eyes emerging from the shadows with hackles raised and eyes pinning its prey.  
  
He swallowed and the dryness in his mouth made him realize that he had been gaping. Nonsense. This was ridiculous a Pavus did not gape. He mentally shook himself and heard Dagna's voice flow into his consciousness as she rattled on about the new armour to the Inquisitor.  
  
".... And so you see the armour itself is a rune, a whole series of runes, a rune network! It doesn't just piggyback off the markings but interacts with them and enhances them. Fenris should be able to control his phasing and the luminosity of the markings to very fine degrees. I've also enchanted the hilt of his sword so he can use it more easily while partially ghosting, and both should be nearly immune to red lyrium corruption."  
  
"It's brilliant Dagna. I do wonder though, is Josephine going to have a heart attack when she finds out how much lyrium you used developing this?"  
  
Dagna blushed slightly but returned Lilith's indulgent smile. "Well, maybe. But I found new rune prototypes for counteracting red lyrium corruption. Is that ever going to be valuable!"  
  
"Absolutely." Finally Lilith turned to Dorian who had rearranged his face into something more normal by this time. "So Dorian, what do you think?"  
  
Fenris eyes shot to Dorian. He felt pinned again and his thoughts scattered. It took him a little longer than expected to respond. "I think Corypheus should be absolutely terrified."  
  
A smirk touched the corner of Fenris's mouth and the antagonism in his eyes softened slightly. Dorian wanted nothing so much in that moment as to surge forward and claim that mouth. So of course he started babbling.  
  
"Although if he is going to walk around Skyhold like that you may need to ask Josephine for a supply of fainting couches. For the awestruck soldiers and swooning maidens you understand."  
  
Fenris's eyebrows shot up to his hairline and a faint pink tinged the tips of his ears. Lilith stared at him for a moment, and then burst into a laugh.  
  
"And which are you then Dorian?" She cackled. Dagna joined her in giggling while Dorian harrumphed indignantly and Fenris stood fidgeting in growing discomfort. Finally Lilith took pity on them.  
  
"Alright, well we'll have time to test it soon. We leave for Crestwood in two days. I'll need you both of course. Since we are meeting Hawke I asked Varric along but he is following up some leads on the red lyrium trade so Cole is coming. Wear something waterproof, the weather has been abysmal. Dagna, I'm sure you have some suggestions for Fenris in treating his armour."  
  
With that Lilith flitted out to the next duty facing the Inquisitor. Dorian was still speechless, pinned under Fenris's gaze. Dagna broke the moment as she surged forward shattering about polishes for different weather conditions and how they would affect the lyrium. Dorian blinked, released from the stare. He made a quick bow, turned on his heel and retreated as quickly as he could.  
  
He didn't breath again until he stepped outside of the undercroft. Maker what was he doing?  
  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
  
Crestwood was disgusting.  
  
It was exactly what was to be expected from Ferelden. Mud and dogs and muddy dogs with the unique added component of shambling undead and a green glowing lake. Dorian started in immediately.  
  
"Honestly amicus you do find us the most exotic places. How many outfits can I expect to ruin this trip?"  
  
"Oh Dorian, where would you be without me?"  
  
"Warm and dry, I imagine."  
  
"Ha! What fun would that be?" Lilith laughed and then suddenly jumped and slapped behind her ear. "Hey! Did you just flick me with ice?"  
  
Dorian crossed his arms and looked away with exaggeratedly false innocence. "I have no idea what you're talking about."  
  
"Oh you don't know what you started," she smirked. As she opened her hand, palm up, a myriad of tiny ice crystals began to form, spinning into a snowball.  
  
"Undead!" came the call from Fenris, who had taken point largely to distract himself from the uneasiness he felt at Cole's presence.  
  
When the dust settled they found they had been assisted by two Grey Wardens.  
  
The men were looking for Stroud. Lilith got as much information out of them as she could before leading them blithely off towards the town.  
  
"I don't like it," Fenris growled quietly as he fell into step beside her  
  
"Neither do I," Lilith replied, sotto voce, "but they'll gain nothing by following us. After all, we're just here to help the town." Lilith winked and kept walking.  
  
Good, she knew better than to lead the danger to Hawke. It was disappointing to be delayed, but the town clearly needed assistance and served as a convenient cover for their presence. Just then Cole's voice drifted forward from where he was walking with Dorian.  
  
"Dorian, what's a slave?"  
  
" _Festis bei umo canavarum_ ."  
  
"But you said I could ask questions."  
  
"That's true. Just... go ask the Inquisitor this one."  
  
Lilith spoke softly, "I'll explain it later Cole, we have business now in the village."  
  
As it happened, 'business' simply meant capturing a keep single handedly and draining a lake. The group was very grateful when Lavellan decided to rest in the keep that night before tackling the rift under the old village.  
  
Dorian hadn't been able to look at Fenris all day. It was easy enough to ignore the druffalo in the room while they were slaying bandits but not as easy sitting across the camp fire. Dorian remembered Cole's question from the morning and buried his head in his hands. All his previous justifications for slavery rose up and choked him. How could he talk about the protection slavery was supposed to offer in front of a man tortured by it? Did he even believe there had ever been noble reasons for the institution, or was it always just a blind for those who wanted power? He felt sick. He was torn between wanting to slink off to bed and not wanting to draw attention to himself. Fenris was sitting across from him, viciously stareing the fire into submission.  
  
"I think I should answer your question Cole." Dorian started at Lilith's voice but she laid a gentle hand on his shoulders she passed and took her place at the fire. "Slavery is when one person owns another person."  
  
"Owns them?"  
  
"Yes, the same way you own your hat."  
  
"I like my hat." Then after a moment's consideration his brows crumpled, "but it's a thing, people aren't things."  
  
"No Cole, they aren't. Some people had no food or money so they would work as slaves, their Master would feed and clothe them but they would have no control over anything. A master makes all the choices for a slave."  
  
"Like spirits when you bind them?"  
  
"Yes Cole, a bit different but like that."  
  
"I see.” The boy's eyes widened as though looking far away, “They have a choice but they really don't. That's bad.”  
  
"Yes Cole."  
  
Fenris, who had been clenching his jaw so hard it was beginning to seize, snorted at that. "It seems even the demon disapproves of slavery."  
  
"Cole is not a demon." Dorian had remained silent until now but he bristled at that.  
  
"Yes, until he tries to possess you."  
  
Cole’s eyes stayed unfixed as he whispered, "He sees the friends who’s not his friend. Comrade, trusted but not. Black, burnt, betrayal, red sky rent with screams. Anger in the belly to hide the hurt. Never should have trusted, I should have stopped it." He turned towards Fenris, “It wasn’t your fault.”  
  
"You see Cole," Lilith continued, reigning in the conversation with a firm voice, "sometime when people are different they forget that other people have feelings too, that just because another person isn't like them it doesn't mean that they don't have the same importance. It can make good men hurt others without meaning to, and give bad men the freedom to be terrible without any repercussions."  
  
"Oh..." said Cole with wide eyes.  
  
"Anyways, you have plenty to think about, are you certain you are alright to watch tonight."  
  
"Oh yes, spirits don't sleep."  
  
"Or eat."  
  
"Blech"  
  
Lilith laughed ruffling the boy's hair. "More for me."  
  
Cole offered a shy smile as Lilith started bringing out the cooking pot. “I can help.”

“Thank you Cole, just don’t let Dorian near the cooking pot.” She turned towards the other mage and winked.

“Honestly amicus you would think I can’t cook.”

“You can’t,” Lilith smiled. “Now make yourself useful and grab some more firewood shem.” The harsh term was given with a gentle laugh. A way to tease him from his melancholy and he knew it.

“Very well, we may as well burn that door you bashed in like a barbarian.” Dorian gathered himself up and walked off calling over his shoulder, “I’d better not get splinters.”

They both pretended that they hadn’t notice Fenris slip away.

 

~~~~

 

Several days later with the rift closed, the mayor exposed as a murderer, the keep established and the snooping Wardens well clear, they were finally, _finally_ going to meet Hawke. They were exhausted and muddy, even Dorian had given up complaining. At least the rain had stopped.

As the cave came in sight Fenris picked up the pace, cheered for the first time in days. It would be good to see Hawke again.

Dorian on the other hand held back. He liked the champion well enough but he did not want to intrude himself on their reunion. Since the discussion on slavery he didn’t really know what to say to Fenris, the equilibrium they had established was shaken and he didn’t know how to get it back.

Stroud seemed to be a good man, so many followed orders unquestioningly. Now it seemed the Wardens were a new problem... aaand they had to go to the blighted Western Approach, lovely.

 Dorian was waiting a little to the side as the others debriefed when he heard Hawke and Fenris talking.

 “So, I see you haven’t killed Dorian yet.”

 Fenris harrumphed. “I said I would not.”

 “Yeah but seriously, how are you? Is everything alright? I mean he seems like a nice guy but…”

 Fenris rolled his eyes, of course Hawke would meddle. “I am fine Hawke. Dorian… he seems like he wishes to be a good man. I will watch him but he has not given me reason for concern. Yet.” he added somewhat belatedly.

 “Coming from you that’s a high commendation.”

 “You know why I am cautious Hawke. But if the man wishes to be better than his countrymen I will not discourage him. I do not see any virtue in the Imperium, but if there had been any decent men I admit I would not have seen them in Danarius’ circle.”

 Hawke put a hand on Fenris’s spiked shoulder. “I’m proud of you Fen, I know it can be hard to give someone a chance.”

Fenris just smirked and raised an eyebrow. Hawke continued in a lighter tone, “or maybe it’s just that the Imperium brings out the gorgeous men with brooding pasts.”

“Hawke…” Fenris said rolling his eyes without any real annoyance.

“What? You know Bella would love him.”

Fenris pinched his nose, “Hawke please tell me you aren’t bringing Isabella into this mess. Have you forgotten we are working with a Ben Hassrath? Besides, I doubt she would be his type.” 

“Oh, does he go more for the strong and silent warrior type?”

“Hawke, I swear I will throw you into the lake.”

A loud laugh rumbled from the Champion.  “Just like old times then,” he turned to wink at Fenris but then his smile softened. “Well it looks we’re all wrapped up here, hopefully I’ll see you again in the Western Approach.”

“Take care of yourself Hawke.” Fenris felt his throat tighten, Hawke was his best friend and these were uncertain times.

Dorian stood frozen behind a stalagmite trying to make sense of the relief flooding through him. He tried to calm himself, to tell himself that it didn’t really mean anything to say that he was better than those who must have be the worst of the Imperium. But from Fenris, from Fenris it meant everything. Perhaps if he could undo some of the horrible wrongs done to this one man, it would be a place to start. To unwind the evils of his nation one tortured thread at a time until its nobler characteristics could breath and grow. They deserved so much more, Fenris deserved so much more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit to kurow whose wonderful fick Unblemished Memory (http://archiveofourown.org/works/5441936/chapters/12576407) is where I first read the idea of Fenris being a living rune. I thought Dagna could expand on the idea and make armour that was as much a rune as he is. That first section should probably be at the end of the last chapter and I may move it later after anyone following has had a chance to see the update.
> 
> Also in case it wasn't clear, Cole is responding to Fenris's thoughts about Anders, as Cole's situation would naturally remind him of Justice. I think he would have felt partially responsible for not stopping the Chantry explosion and would fear Cole being another Justice.
> 
> I love you all.


	10. Old pains and new beginings

The whole group was muddy and exhausted by the time they made their way back to Skyhold. Hawke had followed Stroud to the dust of the western approach and the rest of the group were left tying up loose ends. After clearing out the last of the bandits, discovering a lost agents body, and clearing out a wyvern nest, a dragon appeared.

“That's it. I've had it, we're going home.” Lilith declared, throwing up her hands in complete exasperation.

“Should we not deal with the dragon?” Fenris asked, somewhat hesitantly.

“I don't care, I am muddy, I am tired, I have been hunting down every kind of monster and demon for weeks now. If I walk up to that dragon I am going to ask him to eat me so I can finally have an uninterrupted nap!” She took a deep breath and turned to her bedraggled companions. “Look we'll get put back together and then we will take care of it. Besides,” she said with a twisted smile, “ Bull would never forgive me if I didn't bring him along.

Dorian laughed loud at that. “He certainly wouldn't amicus. Alright home it is. But I told you you would owe me new robes.” The man gestured to his mud and ichor stained attire.

“Yes, I seem to remember plaideweave.”

“Don't even joke about that amicus!”

“Who's joking, _Magister_?”

“I swear unto the Maker I will send Sera after you.”

“Sera, loves _plaidweave_.”

“ _Sera_ , also loves bees.”

“You wouldn't dare.”

“I am the scion of House Pavus, there is nothing I wouldn't dare.”

The man and the elf faced each other, glaring dramatically.

At least until Lilith's mouth started to twitch.

“Fine!” She surrendered dramatically as if she hadn't intended to all along. “But I get the best seat when we get back.”

“As if there was ever any other option.”

~~~

The last comment in the jesting exchange bothered Fenris. The best seat, the best seat for what? The Inquisitor always had the best seat at any event except Wicked Grace night, which she insisted was first come- first served. It was the silliest thing to be concerned about.

But there were lots of little asides between the two, sentences referring to some inside joke. He would have thought nothing of it but even the strange demon boy seemed to be avoiding referring to something. The half finished phrases and the sudden change of topic as he approached, it was enough to make him absolutely paranoid.

They pushed hard and approached the keep in late afternoon, exhausted and filthy. Lilith was still annoyingly chipper.

“Alright, everyone go get cleaned up. There is a dinner event tonight and everyone is required, no exceptions.”

Fenris let out a small deep groan. He couldn’t decide whether he should complain or just catch a few hours sleep while he could. An evening in a chair after several days in the saddle sounded torturous. It didn’t occur to him until he was in his room that Dorian hadn’t uttered a word of protest.

It was only a few hours later that Fenris was woken by a knock on his door.

He grunted and rolled over. He hated sleeping in the middle of the day, it threw everything off and now it seemed the sun was close to setting. He rubbed his eyes pulled on a clean pair of leggings and stumbled to the door with a half murmured ‘coming’.

Fenris opened the door bleary eyed and bare chested to face a freshly primped and polished Dorian Pavus.

Dorian Pavus who was standing there with his hand frozen in the air, raised to knock again, while his unfocused eyes seemed to be burning a hole right through Fenris’s chest.

Annoyed at being caught in such a state he snapped his fingers under the mage’s nose. Dorian seemed to start breathing again.

“My good man, while I find your idea of dinner attire stunning, I assure you, I believe Madame de Fer might object. I understand she has even convinced the Iron Bull to put on a shirt. A feat hitherto considered impossible.”

“Oh” responded Fenris lamely. He ducked his head trying to hide his embarrassment behind his hair. “I had not considered what to wear.” Venhedis, it was probably already late.

Dorian’s lip twisted in a half smile. “It seems I arrived just in time. I wanted to give you something and this seemed as good a time as any.” He held out a soft bundle of emerald green cloth.

Fenris was stunned, was this some sort of trick? Slowly he reached forward to touch the fabric. The bundle unfolded, flowing into the softest silk tunic imaginable. Fenris just stared at it uncomprehending.

Dorian, obviously, started to babble, “You don’t have to wear it if you don’t wish. It just seemed that you’re always about in your armour and I didn’t know if you had anything for leisure in the keep. Dagna still had your measurements and I figured even you couldn’t grow too much more muscle mass in a month.”

Fenris quirked an eyebrow at that last remark. “You had this made for me?”

“Well I… yes.” Dorian stammered.

Fenris slowly smiled in a way that had Dorian stop breathing again. “Perhaps we should see if it fits?”

Dorian nodded, utterly unable to think of a witty retort.

Fenris pulled on the tunic. It’s construction was surprisingly simple for anything commissioned by Dorian. The neck was cut in a slash, but not low. Just showing a hint of collarbone. While the shoulders were fitted, they were not so tight as to impede movement. Small slits opened from the wrists leaving a free feeling in the arms. There was a natural raised vine-like pattern in the cloth. It did not declare itself but merely infused the fabric. But the most remarkable thing was the feel. The silk flowed like water and felt lighter than air. He could not remember ever possessing anything so soft in his life.

Gifts in Tevinter were not free. They were part of a carefully crafted network of posturing and obligation. Fenris knew this, so did Dorian. He was surprised, looking at the mage, to see that the man looked almost more embarrassed than him.

“It’s a peace offering,” Dorian finally said, “I know of all the things that connect us most are horrible and I regret that deeply. But just for tonight I hoped we could try and find a more pleasant point of common ground.”

Fenris raised an eyebrow at that. His instincts roared that he was nothing like a Magister’s son. That was his old anger, he would not be ruled by it. He swallowed once.

“Thank you.”

Dorian’s eyes lit up and the smile that spread across his face was so genuine Fenris could not regret the civility.

“Well, when you are ready, we adjourn in the gardens.”

Fenris glanced in the small mirror the room provided. He had washed before he slept, his once bleary eyes were now bright, and his hair was always impossible anyways. He turned to Dorian.

“I am ready now. Lead the way.”

~~~

Dorian was positively vibrating with excitement as he led the way to the Great Hall. Fenris found he did not have to respond much beyond a grunt and a nod leaving him free to observe his surroundings. It was a little past the time when people generally ate dinner, but there was that bustle of activity behind the scenes that a servant is always aware of.

Varric greeted them at the door.

“Sparkler, Broody, looking nice.”

“I’m always nice Varric.”

Fenris just rolled his eyes fondly, it was good to see the Dwarf again.

“Is everything in order Varric?”

“Just waiting for you to give the all clear. Go on Sparkles, I’ll be along in a moment. After all this was your idea.”

“Of course,” Dorian smiled a touch uncertain around the eyes, “Fenris would you care to join me?”

Wildly curious but determined not to ask Fenris nodded, “Lead the way.”

The garden had been transformed.

Runes surrounding the area brought the warmth of summer, the smell of wild roses and embrium filled the air. A low table filled the centre of the garden, surrounded by cushioned couches.  
  
Fenris froze.

Something turned over in his stomach. The seating was in the style of a formal Tevinter dinner, but with none of the rigidity typical of the Imperial north. Slowly he turned towards Dorian with an arched brow.

“You have seen the worst of the Imperium Fenris. Tonight I hope you will allow me the privilege of sharing some of the better moments with you.”

Dorian gave a slight bow and held out his hand. Fenris took it almost unthinkingly having observed the protocol so many times though never directed at him. Dorian lead him down to the table and to his seat.

“Will you be so good as to give me your opinion of the wine?” Dorian bent down and took Fenris’s cup pouring him a sample of the vintage. As Fenris lifted the cup he smiled at the familiar bouquet.

“Aggregio Pavali, I approve.”

Dorian smiled and looked up, “One final touch I think.” With a flick of his fingers the garden was illuminated with a thousand tiny mage lights in warm tones.

As if it were a signal people started to appear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to write more but I also wanted to add to this today. Yes this is all Orana's doing, I promise food.


	11. A Taste of Possibilities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so, so sorry. It turns out tragedy is hard but not nearly so much as recovery. If anyone is still reading. Thank you.

Lavellan was first attended by Solas of all people.

“Dorian, it's beautiful.”

“Of course. Everything I do is perfection amicus, you know that.”

“Oh really?” Lilith’s eyes twinkled with mischief as she smiled, “what about that time in the fallow marshes when you…”

“Tush! None of that.”

“Or that time in Haven you…”

“NO!!”

“Or what about when Cullen…”

“You are terribly dull, and I hate you.” Dorian crossed his arms and made an imperious gesture. “Now sit down and behave or I'll make sure you don't get the good wine.”

“Don't even think about it.” The glare accompanying the words was somewhat undercut by the teasing smile she couldn't stifle as she took her place. Solas sat beside her silent and reserved as always, but gave a slight, formal bow to Dorian and to Fenris, who was watching all of this with a raised eyebrow

“Maker's breath it's warm.” Cullen's voice sounded from the walkway, where he had appeared with Cassandra, Leliana, and Josephine.

“Of course my dear Commander,” Dorian said as he approached the group and began leading the ladies to their seats, “which is precisely why I told you not to wear your armour. I doubt the embrium has a vendetta against you at any rate.”

“Tush,” Leliana's bird like tones teased the Commander, “just look pretty.”

“An excellent suggestion,” Dorian added with a part on the shoulder and a glass of wine before the Commander could fluster further. Now that you are here Tevinter doesn't have to bear the entire weight of male beauty for the party.”

“Such a terrible burden for you and Fenris to bear, I am so pleased we saved you from it” Josephine rejoined.

“Well I am quite prepared to bear so much admiration, I would not wish our handsome warrior overwhelmed by all the adoring attention.”

Fenris, who was not used to considering himself as part of the ‘male beauty’, blushed fiercely and took a sip of wine.

“I think Solas should be offended” Lilith piped up.

“My dear I fear the unwashed apostate hobo look has gone out.”

“Now, now Sparkler play nice,” said Varric, emerging from a dim corner as he pocketed a roll of parchment. He stepped up to the table beside Cassandra who crossed her arms severely over her chest, bare of its usual breastplate. “You are looking lovely this evening Seeker. Did you do something to your hair?”

“It is the same thing I do everyday Varric.”

The Dwarf shrugged and shook his head, “Completely hopeless.”

A small commotion started near the door followed by Sera bursting in dragging Cremisius Aclassi by his collar with Dagna hot on their heels

“Sera dear, you've brought the last of our noble Tevinter stock, and you wore the shirt with only two mustard stains, I'm touched.”

That Sera only responded with a raspberry spoke to her affection for Dorian.

“And you my darling Dagna,” Dorrian said taking her hand in a charming bow, “many thanks for the rune work.”

“Oh it was nothing,” chattered Dagna while Dorian calmly escorted her to a seat beside Sera. “Actually I was able to test rune variability in ranged network efficacy. The principles are universally applicable to ambient magic but I think they can be expanded to the study of... oh, thank you!” Dagna replied as Dorian handed her a glass of wine and winked at a blushing Sera, Krem having quietly taken a seat in the meantime.

“And now we only await….”

Dorian had not finished his sentence before steps were heard on the stairs from the gallery. From the opposite direction as the main door descended Madame De Fer, resplendent in robes shimmering with fiery reds and golds. Attending her with the utmost decorum, in a trim jacket and tailored pants was the Iron Bull.

“Darling I am delighted that you managed to put together this little affair,” Vivienne kissed Dorian’s cheek, “it is so important to have these moments of reprieve.”

The Iron Bull escorted Lady Vivienne to her place with courtly decorum and sat next to his rather tongue-tied lieutenant who promptly stopped fiddling with his collar and almost sat on his hands. Once each was seated with a goblet of wine Dorian raised his glass.

“To home,” he said with a florid gesture, “however flawed or far they may be our homelands made us for good or ill. May we remember the good and strive to make it better.”

As each raised a glass Fenris was pensive. Where was home for him? Tevinter had made him quite literally, though he would die of thirst before toasting it. He caught sight of Varric’s wry smile. Kirkwall was home for Varric, and had been for Fenris for over a decade. Kirkwall was where he fought for his freedom, found friends, forged an identity. Flawed as it was it was the closest thing to home he had ever known.

The last to drink Fenris didn’t notice Dorian call for the first course. Servers materialized coordinated in a passable resemblance to formal Tevene dinner service.

The Salad was a crushed mint, pennyroyal, and elfroot in oil and vinegar with a sprinkling of nuts and a sharp salty cheese. There were appetizers of the tiniest soft boiled eggs in a pine nut sauce with pepper and honey. When the third course arrived and they discovered that Orana had actually obtained Saffron Dorian was utterly overcome, he began to insist Orana should be sainted by the chantry.

“It really was her doing Sparkler,” Varric said, “Orana was very insistent, and she runs quite a tight ship. You made the right call leaving her in charge that girl has really come into her own.”

Vivienne inclined her head slightly “Perhaps when political matters are more resolved I should make introductions for her in Val Royeaux. Talent should always be encouraged.”

“If you can talk her away from Hawke you couldn’t do better, seems she's been drilling the staff all week for this. It’s hard to believe she was as timid as a mouse when we first met her”

“She was enslaved to my former master’s apprentice,” Fenris added, “Hadrianna was as cruel and sadistic a blood Mage as any I’ve seen in the Imperium.”

Vivienne’s face hardened perceptively as she arched her eyebrow. “And I take it this vulgar creature did not survive your encounter.”

“She did not.” The two shared a small but vicious smile.

“Someone should have set a Jenny on her a long time ago” Sera piped up.  
  
“Alas Sera, I fear the Imperium is sadly entirely lacking Red Jennies.”

“Well that’s what wrong innit? Nobody to knock the nobles down a peg. Puffed up heads is bad all round.”

“The Magisters have ruled for too long unopposed. Any attempt would be brutally crushed” Fenris replied.

“It’s true,” Dorian said, “Change is never easy. The more reform is needed the more it is resisted. Yet there are those who want change. I do, and I’m not alone. For all our faults my people have many virtues, we are laden with history. You can walk down a side street in Minrathous and see nothing build during the modern age. We treasure our past and preserve it. And despite appearances we care, deeply, about everything. We have no reserves, not in war, and not in love.”

For one moment as Fenris looked at Dorian all fire and passion, he envisioned the Tevinter Dorian dreamed of. It was absolutely hopeless of course, it would take a hundred lifetimes to dig out such corruption if it could be done at all, and yet…

“Why Sparkler that was positively poetic. I might steal that.”

Dorian smirked “I’ll expect royalties from every quotation.” Varric threw up his hands in surrender and turned his attention to the Seeker.

Dorian sat back as various conversations started to pick up around the table. Dagna began to explain to an enraptured Sera her work with new runes and how it was like she was “thinking all the thoughts”. Varric was continuing to try and charm Cassandra who was blushing after her third glass of wine and scowling more in an attempt to hide it. Cullen and Krem seemed to be in a lively debate about battle tactics, or stuffed nugs in the trebuchet, it was never quite clear which.

“I do not think we recall the same Tevinter ma… Dorian.”  
  
Dorian's shoulders slumped a little though he maintained a calm exterior.

“It is true, and yet… Haven't you ever loved something despite its faults? Wanted to make it better because you loved it? I hate the corruption, I always have but I miss the noonday heat in Minrathous, fresh olives, rich wine. And despite it all there were some good people, friends who wanted a better vision. Mae is one, Felix was another.” Dorian took suspiciously long drink and swallowed firmly. “He would have loved a night like this. Probably would have had Sera pulling pranks.”

Fenris thought of Varric and his deep devotion to Kirkwall in all of its chaos. He thought of Merrill, a wide-eyed and innocent blood mage getting lost in other people's gardens, whose foolishness cost her keeper her life. Of shameless Isabella and the chaos she caused, but the way she was always there for him all the same. Even his crumbled old wreck of a mansion that was never his but still felt like his first home in memory.

And he looked at Dorian. A man he should despise but couldn't. He recognized the look in the eyes of someone who had lost someone dear.

At that moment a familiar smell gave him an idea. Fenris turned to Dorian, "I am sorry I did not know your Felix, but perhaps he would have been just as willing to play a prank on Sera.”

Dorian turned to him in surprise and then followed Fenris his gaze. The main course dishes were being served, among them roast Phoenix served with a familiar sauce. The two smirked at each other and then quickly looked away, Dorian reached for more wine.

“Oh I was hoping for this, roast Phoenix is a delicacy rarely enjoyed in the magisterium. The bird itself is delicious but half of the organs are poisonous. To consume such a dish in the home of the magister would be a remarkable display of trust, or bravado. But fashion cannot be stayed and it became quite popular.”

Fenris made a dismissive sound, “Actually the Phoenix became an indicator that no one was to be poisoned. It was too obvious for the Magisters. If anything that was the night to watch for a blade in the back.

“Oh yes,” Dorian agreed, “to actually use the poisonous bird to poison someone would terribly gauche, positively amatur, you'd never be invited to the best parties again.”

“So it is safe to eat?” Piped up Lavellan eyeing the large bird suspiciously.

“Of course! Though I might not go to heavy on that sauce Sera dear, it might be a bit too much for your delicate Fereldan pallet.”

Sera, who had taken the opportunity to heap up her plate, made a rude gesture at Dorian and shoved a spoon of the accompanying sauce directly into her mouth.

A second later Sarah had leapt up from the table and was running about swearing violently,

“Shite. Piss, pissbag, bloody fucking SHITE!.....”

She flapped her hands at her mouth searching hopelessly for some relief. Finally she dunked her whole head in a nearby urn holding water for the plants.

“YOU!” She shouted pointing at Dorian and resembling nothing quite so much as I half drowned cat, “you piss bag, demon, flappy robed, shite! I will… Bees! THERE WILL BE BEES!!”

The whole table was laughing, Dorian was laughing so hard he nearly fell out of his seat.

“I did try and warn you Sera dear, besides it's not called the firebird for nothing.”

The Iron Bull apparently found this reaction an excellent recommendation.

“Pepperoncini, excellent, I haven’t tasted anything with a good kick since I left Vol Dorma.”

“Yes well the civilized among us will notice there are two sauces for the bird and they are intended to be balanced accordingly.”

With that they feasted. Most tried at least a taste of the Phoenix though Cullen demurred and only enjoyed the Ram glazed in a honey and wine sauce. By the time the fruit and cheese was served they were all happy to stretch their legs. The brief respite allowed for much mixed conversation. Fenris still found himself inclined to skirt the edge of the group, watching. That is probably how he ended up standing beside Cullen.

“I never know what the do at these things. In Ferelden no one gets up part way through the meal to lounge about.”

“The tradition,” Fenris responded, “is said to aid in digestion. Usually it's just an excuse to get any murder out-of-the-way before dessert.”

“Maker!”

Fenris smirked but continued in a different vein. “I was surprised to see you here, in the Inquisition I mean, I am glad you are doing well for yourself.”

“It hasn't been easy, but I think we’ve managed to do a lot of good. I’m glad to have Dorian around though. He’s a good man and confident in his magic. It was quite a shock at first.” Fenris raised an eyebrow as Cullen continued. “It’s been difficult to build trust with the mages. It’s actually a relief to deal with Dorian. He's not afraid of his magic, and it's a good example. Many mages have been less afraid of me since Dorian and I became friends."

“You’ve become friends?” Fenris said, scarcely believing his ears. For the man who once said Mages weren’t really people to be friends with a Tevinter Altus may have caused him a slight aneurysm.

Cullen may have been thinking the same thing as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Yes, we actually play a bit of chess in the garden when we can. Dorian cheats horribly of course.”

“Lies and scandal,” Dorian said appearing suddenly, “I should demand satisfaction for such a slight.”

“I still beat you.”

“The Inquisitor interrupted us.”

“One move before I had you.”

“I was distracted by important research. Now shush or I won't let you have any dessert”

Cullen relaxed entirely and laughed, “Just try and stop me.”

Everyone was making their way back to the table. The smell of spiced cocoa accompanied dessert, a tart filled with a delightful whipped custard concoction and roasted nuts, chilled with a warm sauce of boiled honey. It was positively decadent.

At Dorian's insistence Oranna was brought out and received so much praise Fenris thought that she might faint. Varic eventually rescued her from Dorian's effusions with a smile and a soft "you did good kid".

Though the table dispersed no one seemed set on leaving. The enchanted lights and warmth of the garden inspired a few to pair off. Dagna was playing with Sera’s drying hair near one of the heating runes and laughing at her bedraggled look. Varic was with Cassandra by the embrium weaving another wild tale. Her face had lost it sternness as she was caught up in the beauty of it all. Behind a trellis Solas and Lavellan sat, closer than was strictly necessary, as Solas expounded tales of ancient Arlathan and Lilith sat enraptured.

As Fenris looked around he felt a twinge. Of course not everyone was paired off but still sometimes he wondered. It was too dangerous as a slave to have romantic entanglements and not much more safe as a mercenary. He remembered again his scars and tattoos always marking him different from others. Wounded. Branded. Normally it made him angry but tonight it just made him sad. He let out a long sigh leaning back against the pillar to look at the stars.

“I fear I may have made an error in judgment." Dorian's voice came from behind over his left shoulder and Fenris turned towards him with a puzzled look.

“You see I was unaware that Oranna was already planning proper pairing of vintages when she sourced for supplies through Varic. To be on the safe side I had already sourced some wine through Josephine. Now what with the spread of the table we may have opened a few more bottles than strictly necessary and it would be a crime to waste such a vintage.”

Fenris actually let out a laugh. “A terrible problem indeed. Shall I presume you require some assistance?”

“If you would be so kind. After all they deserve only the most astute palate.”

“But where should we go so as not to disturb the others?”

“Leave that to me" Dorian said with a wink.

Soon the two were scrambling with their ill-gotten gains along the back way to the ramparts. Dorian lead Fenris to the ruin of the unfinished tower.

They climbed the remnants of the stairs to the second floor which was all that remained. The roof and one side was gone but the curve of the walls provided a good protection from the wind unless it was angled just so.

Fenris raised an eyebrow when he saw two rough blankets folded in the corner. “You planned this?”

“What?” Dorian responded following his eyes. "Oh no, I've just been up here a few nights when I couldn't sleep but of course it's so unthinkably cold. Lucky I snagged one of Dagna’s heating runes.”

They made a little nest of the blankets, Dorian fussing to make sure that Fenris did not lean on the stone and snag his tunic, and each grabbed a bottle of wine.

They sat in silence for a few moments until Dorian spoke.

“Do you know what I miss? The summer storms. The wind was never cold the way it is here, but the way the clouds would gather, the tinge of power in the air just on the edge of release, I loved it.

“I remember when I was young and just coming into my magic. The charge in the air. The tang of lightning, like the smell of my father's lyrium potions but wild, free, and so much larger than me. I ran out into the field shouting to the sky. My poor nanny nearly had a heart attack. She fussed so when they finally caught me. I think she thought I was afraid of the storm but that wasn’t it. I wanted to be the storm. It made me feel like I could fly.

“Of course I couldn’t indulge for long. It was soon made clear that Atli simply did not run howling into the hearts of storms.” Dorian gave a wry smile, “and I suppose it did muss my hair horribly.”

Fenris actually laughed at that. When he turned to Dorian his smile was unguarded and his eyes bright. “You are not so shallow as you wish to appear.”

Dorian shoved his shoulder laughing. “Well don’t tell anyone!”

Fenris’s eyes focused more firmly on the other man. “Dorain, they already know.”

There was something warm in his voice, unguarded as he had never been before. Dorian felt his mouth go dry. He swallowed and licked his lips instinctively. He saw Fenris’s eyes flick downward following the motion. He couldn’t look away. He wanted so much to lean just a little closer, for Fenris to lean just a little closer. But he was. Dorian was pinned wide eyed as Fenris came closer, closer. His arm reached across and bracketed Dorian, Maker he had never been so aroused and Fenris hadn’t even touched him.

And then the arm across his chest stretched a little more and Fenris grasped one of the half open wine bottles beside him. The moment broke.

“Trying to hide them all on your side?”

Dorian groaned and hid his face in his hands. “I bring you up here to share my illicit haul and this is the thanks I get? I swear all my friends are trouble.”

Fenris drew up his knees and sat pensive, debating with himself for a minute.

“Dorian, will you tell me about Felix?”

Dorian didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, he very nearly did both at the same time.

And as he told tales late into the night of his best friend, his brother in all but blood, his heart gave a little thrill when a warm hand slipped into his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of the recipes here are taken, with some Thedas inspiration, from Apicius, an ancient Roman cookbook. Though the saffron was inspired by Persia and The hot peppers are only used in select parts of southern Italy.
> 
> Also I'm a tease.
> 
> Sorry not sorry.


	12. I am the weapon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ok so I hope a few of you will forgive my erratic schedule with updates. If anyone's still reading I'm posting this part in two chapters because the second section is porn. Sooooo if you want the avoid that, which is perfectly reasonable since I don't have a fucking clue what I'm doing, that makes it easy... Yeah

The first thing Dorian noticed was that most of his body was very cold. The second thing he noticed was something warm beside him. He curled towards the source inhaling spices, leather, and lyrium, burying his face in something soft. The third thing he noticed was a rather unexpected, and very tiny, slap across the nose.

His eyes shot open but then squinted painfully in the light as he tried to make sense of what was in front of him. White fluff and something pointed that had just flicked his nose. His brow wrinkled in confusion and the tip twitched again.

“Your moustache tickles.” A deep voice grumbled still foggy from sleep.

That was Fenris...wait was he spooning Fenris? His eyes shot open in shock and the bright sunlight immediately made him regret it. He groaned and hid his face in what some dim part of his mind noted was Fenris‘s hair. Then the burden in his arms shifted as the other man curled in tighter. “Make it warmer mage.”

Unthinking Dorian waved his hand and the air around them warmed. He noticed a moment of rigid tension in the body next to him but then was distracted by how quickly the heat dissipated. Glancing around as briefly as possible he cast a quick barrier around the ruined walls of the tower and warmed the air again.

Slowly each man started to relax a bit as the warm air sunk into cold bones. After a few minutes Fenris stretched out like a cat.

“I had forgotten what it felt like to be warm.”

Dorian yawned and covered has eyes, “I doubt these southern barbarians have ever felt such a thing. Now if I could just do something for my head…”

He felt something at his elbow, Squinting to bringing object into focus he saw two small bottles, not wine bottles, potion bottles full of a familiar fluid.

“Cole. Maker bless all Spirits of Compassion,” he declared passing one to Fenris and downing the other without ceremony.

Fenris squinted at the unappetizing concoction and then at Dorian. “What is this?”

Dorian flopped back throwing his arm over his eyes. “I think they call it Hair-of-the-Mabari down here. It’s the best hangover cure I’ve ever had.”

“And the dem-Cole brought it?”

“Cole is alright you know, he only wants to help, anyway I think he got the recipe off of Bull, or Varric, one of them. He brought it to me last time, tastes dreadful, but it works.”

Fenris head hurt too much to argue and Dorian seemed fine so he shrugged and swallowed the strange brew.

It felt a bit like he had set off one of Varric’s Miasmic flasks in his head. He swore he could feel fire pouring down his throat. Fenris gasped, his eyes watering, then sense reasserted itself and the world settled back to reasonable proportions. The light no longer burned and while his head still felt a bit watery he no longer felt like murdering the Jay which, judging from it’s song, must have nested somewhere along the walls.

He fell back on the blanket with one arm draped across his eyes. “Why did we sleep on a stone slab again?”

Dorian squinted “Wine, there was definitely a lot of wine. Where are the bottles?” Granted most had been at least opened so they hadn't drunk quite as much as it might seem but he did remember there being more around.

Fenris grunted and gestured at the absent section of wall. Dorian sifted through hazy memories of throwing bottles over the ledge, arguing that Fenris wanted to throw one that wasn’t empty. Then something about heights, fear of falling, a repulsion glyph and trying to see how far over the glyph they had to throw the bottles not to have them flung back.

The kinks in his back started to reassert themselves and he groaned, “Well I’m sneaking off to a decent bed before someone sees me and thinks it's acceptable to talk to me at this Marker forsaken hour.”

Fenris, who seemed incapable of much more than grunts at this hour, made a noise that might have been assent, rolled over in response and stood up having wrapped himself in one of the blankets. Dorian would never dream of thinking that Fenris looked adorable, that he wished he could curl up next to him in a real bed, brushing tousled hair out of his face and curling closer to feel his soft skin and smell the musk, and leather tinged with the bite of ozone he found so attractive. No, certainly not. Never crossed his mind.

The two made their way along the wall towards their respective quarters. Fenris’s room was closer. He turned towards his room and Dorian gave a halfhearted wave, really it was far too early to stand on ceremony. But then Fenris paused and turned back.

“Mage…Dorian.” Dorian turned and saw Fenris give a small half smile, tossing a strand of hair out of his face. “Thank you.”

Before Dorian could respond Fenris was gone, and if the memory of that smile warmed him as he curled up in his bed for a few hours of proper sleep, well, no one would ever know.

——

Fenris itched. The Altus has gotten under his skin.

When he returned to his room he carefully laid aside the green silk top. He would have to ask someone about having it cleaned and pressed. He lay down in his bed and determined to catch up on his missed sleep.

But the hangover cure had been a little too effective and without the haze of alcohol his mind started pestering him again. What did Dorian want from him? What did he want from Dorian? The man had made a great effort to build bridges between them and the foundation of a friendship was he expecting something more? He certainly hasn’t pressed any advantage even when they were both drunk. Perhaps he he didn’t want to. But why would that bother Fenris? He didn’t want the attention some mincing cast off of Tevinter nobility. Why was he even wondering about it?  
Even if the man was remarkably kind, and intelligent, and beautiful and…

 _Venhedis_!! Fenris’s much abused pillow hit the wall. He would never sleep like this. He needed to hit something.

After pulling on his armour Fenris headed down to the training area. Cassandra might enjoy hitting the dummies but that wasn’t going to cut it for him today. Perhaps Cullen would have something for him.

Fenris was in luck. The commander was overseeing the recruits this morning, taking a rare and no doubt welcome break from his usual spot holed up endlessly in his office.

“Commander!” Fenris had to make a point to remember not to call the man Knight Captain though he still frequently thought of him as such. “What’s slated for training today?”

Cullen turned with a smile, his face was much less hard than it had been in Kirkwall but he looked far more exhausted. Fenris knew enough of the man’s demons and had enough of his own so he had not asked questions, but he made a note to keep an eye on the man. Cullen did not let his mistakes go easily and would be far more likely to take care of his men than himself.

“Ah Serah Fenris, I did not expect to see you so early,” he smirked at that, “ I have some of the men, particularly the scouts, training in close quarter combat. They may tend towards stealth as a rule but we must ensure they are prepared for every eventuality.”

“You have them with blades?”

“Some are practising disarmament tactics or fighting close quarters with daggers, others are training in hand to hand unarmed.”

Fenris observed quietly with folded arms.

“Those are the more advanced group,” he said nodding to a group fighting with daggers.

“Yes” Cullen replied, “if I know Lelliana she’s already looking for which ones she intends to steal for her agents.”

Fenris smirked at that. “ well then with your permission, I will run them through their paces.”

Cullen acquiesced white a smile and as Fenris approached the group they fell into order.

“Well then, let’s see what you’ve learned.” Fenris said as he took off his greatsword and placed it beside the training area. “You six in the front row, I will take you first.”

The men glanced at each other, it seemed he meant to take all of them at once. “do you wish a set of daggers Serah?”

Fenris gave the slightest smirk as he took position in the centre of the ring, “I will not require them.”

It was one of the scouts behind him that first nerved himself to strike. Humans were so loud. Fenris pivoted at the last second redirecting the man past him as though he wasn’t there. Two tried to take advantage of the moment and charged from each side. It was almost predictable. He crouched and swept his foot out tripping the one man into the other. Finally all were in the fray attacking together but more measured. Fenris knew this dance. Even in the open space there was only so much room around him. He struck the blade from one man’s hands as he launched his body past him, he rolled under another man’s knees lifting his arm to stop an opportunistic down blow.

“Good!” he cried bringing an elbow down on an outstretched arm without a pause in movement. “The blade is not the weapon,” another man disarmed and flipped rolled in the dust, “it is a tool”.” One grabbed him from behind, he kicked off another and flipped backwards breaking the hold and pinning the first man on his back, “you are the weapon”

Dodging and darting, twisting and turning Fenris’ body moved like smoke. His arm would block one in coming arm redirecting another using every motion of his attackers to his own advantage. He dodged low, sweeping a leg out towards one attacker, kicking up dust to screen himself. He ducked and rolled taking another out at the knees. He caught blades in the edge his gauntlets twisting them away.

In very little time the first group had been bested and Fenris felt like he was finally warming up.

The second group fell faster as Fenris hit his stride. The third group, having observed the other two were more measured in their movement and took a little longer to overwhelm.

By this time a small crowd had gathered including Inquisition soldiers and many of the Chargers. Fenris reached for water to cool his throat and wash the dust from his face. As his eyes lowered they locked with Dorian. The Mage was staring at him like a man first seeing the sun.

“Oi, Glowy bits!” Sera’s voice came from the roof of the tavern where she was sitting beside Lavallen as she lobbed something resembling a burnt biscuit at them. “Come on give us a real show! Bet you can’t take on Flappy Robes.”  
  
Dorian, to whom this moniker evidently referred, called back, “Why Sera, whatever happened to your fear of magic?”

“Magics fine, over there. ‘S why I’m up ‘ere ain’t it? Sides, that’s a right good show.”

“Five royals on Dorian!” Lavallen called before anyone could object.

“I’ll take that bet Lilly Bird, you want in on this Curly?” Varric had materialized as ever when a story was to be had.

The matter, it seemed, was decided without them. Dorian turned with a raised eyebrow and Fenris smirked. Now this would be interesting.

“Never let it be said I turned down a challenge.” Dorian removed the small cloak he wore against the mountain chill flexing his exposed shoulder as he took his position.

Fenris took a moment to retrieve his weapon.

“Don’t get distracted by the pretty Vint!”

“Which one are you talking to Tiny?”

“Does it matter?”

Varric snorted and reached for a high five. Well it was high for him, for Bull it was low. Cullen's eyes rolled so hard an observer might have worried they would fall out of their sockets, but at that moment no one was looking at him.

Dorian rolled his shoulders, exhaled deeply and took a formal stance,

“I fear you have already tired yourself on lesser opponents, do I require a handicap?”

Fenris cracked his neck and laughed, “On the contrary Altus, I have only warmed up.” Fenris twirled his obscenely large sword with casual grace. “Should I allow you time to ready yourself?”

“I’m always ready.”

Both lowered their weapons and Dorian gave a formal bow which Fenris returned. Each took their stance, weapons at the ready. Fenris held his blade with one hand, his other arm outstretched in the stance of the warrior. Dorian’s feet were not so far apart, his staff blade touching the ground behind him almost casually if not for the absolute focus and control that permeated every muscle.

The sound of the crowd around them began to quiet as the two men stood motionless, facing each other. Breath slowed, nothing existed outside this ring.

As if on a signal no one else could see the two men streaked towards each other. Fenris held his blade close as Dorian slid low releasing a mind blast just before he reached the warrior.

Fenris leapt in the air letting the force of the blast propel him into a backflip landing gracefully on his feet.

“Don’t you dare hold back.”

“Wouldn't dream of it.”

And the match truly began

Dorian moved with a quick fade step, leaving frost in his wake and rematerialized wreathed in lightning, any other man would have feared that look. Fenris felt his blood rise in jubilation. He reached into the fade but a wall of flame sprung up and he instinctively recoiled slipping across the ice still covering the ground.

Crouching low he barely kept his feet, skating towards the other man.

A fireball shot at his feet. As he dodged Fenris realized he would soon tire if he was kept dodging like this. He dug his heels into the earth and pulled on the power of his brands.

Through fire and ice he rushed the other man, bringing his sword to meet the mage’s staff. They struck and parried almost faster than mortal eyes could follow. Sparks of magical power flew from each blow, but neither man paid the slightest mind.

Fenris brought his sword forward in a dramatic sweep and at the last possible instant redirected, and brought his pommel down into Dorian's solar plexus.

His barrier took the brunt of the hit, but it pushed the air from his lungs all the same. He threw up a wall of ice to gain a precious second, Fenris lit his brands. Dorian called the power of the fade around himself, pressing his own fear out as a shield. Fenris felt the wave of entropy and roared. He became the chaos.

Dorian pulled deep and threw out a static cage. Fenris screamed as the power arched through his body, he plunged his sword into the earth, grounding the lightning.

Flying at Dorian the mage caught him, as much with the fade as his staff, trying to toss the other man aside. Fenris seemed to cling to the magic itself like some manner of fade demon. The two men rolled in the dust, weapons locked, each looking desperately for an opening.

In an act of seeming desperation Dorian twisted his staff in an odd way, catching Fenris’s sword and flinging it aside but losing his staff in the process. The maneuver cost him. Fenris surrendered the sword reaching for the mage's hands pinning them down.

“Didn’t you hear me mage? I am the weapon.”

Dorian grinned as though his antagonist was not pinned atop and straddling him.

“So am I.”

Dorian gave a sinful roll of his hips, pressing into Fenris in a way that could only be described as filthy. His eyes shot wide, not expecting an assault in that direction at all. Of all the things he did not notice at that moment, chief among them were Dorian’s rings. His many rings. His many rings that he learned to uses as foci in close quarters, and that had served him so well in the past.

Power surged through him. Before he knew it Fenris was flat on his back with Dorian, glorious Dorian astride him fist full of lightening, and eyes jubilant.

“Does this mean I win?”

“That depends what you mean by winning”

Never in all his life had Fenris been so glad to remember the small dagger he insisted on secreting away, invisible among the spikes of his armour. In Dorian’s very moment of Jubilation he pulled the small, wicked blade out and pressed the flat against Dorian's inner thigh. Not even a mage could hope to repulse an attack so close, nor would he risk anything so delicate. Dorian had been out maneuvered.

“I yield!” He spoke aloud, and then a little quieter, “now if you would be so kind as to put away that blade, I’m rather attached to those parts of my body, and I'd like to keep them if it’s all the same to you.”

Fenris smirked and rolled his hips defiantly as he pushed Dorian off of him. The world around suddenly intruded in a wave of sound and motion.

“How the hell did he win?”

“Must’ve had something up his sleeve.”

“Damn!”

“Never bet against Broody.”

A chorus of praise and cheers assaulted them from all sides. It seemed to the spectators there couldn’t truly be a loser in such a spectacular display. Questions poured in from all sides, drowning each other out as both men were swept toward the tavern for celebratory drinks. Louder cheers erupted when the inquisitor declared a round of drinks on the house.

Cabot grumbled, run off his feet, though there was a rumour he might have smiled. Some said it was only a smirk but Sera steadfastly insisted that it was a smile, and said that was the most amazing accomplishment of the day.

As soon as each man held a pint he found himself peppered with questions from admiring followers demanding an explanation to this or that technique. Even Fenris staggered under a clap on the back from the Seeker insisting it was an excellent display of marshal prowess.

Tired as they were, neither could think of a way out of the press and a strong grey arm pulled each of them back to sit with the gathering circle.

“Damn Vints that was hot! Taarsidath-an halsaam!”

Fenris choked on his drink and turned pink to the tips of his ears. Dorian leaned over and asked, “Do I want to know what that means?”

Fenris tried to clear his throat before choking out, “Probably not.”

“Hey Boss! You got a dragon we can take on? I mean damn!”

“That was amazing!” Lilith shrieked hugging Dorian tightly, then reaching over to pull Fenris in too. “How did you win in the end? I couldn’t see anything.”

Dorian smirked, “The elf plays dirty.”

“Ha! Good on you!” Bull appeared on the other side of Fenris with more beer pushing the two together as he slapped Fenris on the shoulder and pinning him there when he sat down.

“Shite, I didn’t know the glowy one could shift through ice.”

Everyone was talking at once, asking questions without waiting for answers. Exclaiming over this or that.

Fenris smiled at Sera weakly, now that the thrill of battle had ebbed he realized how utterly exhausted he was. Given his slouching posture Dorian wasn’t doing much better.

“If I don’t get a lyrium potion I’m going to have a headache for a week.”

Fenris scowled thoughtfully. He had an idea, a stupid idea he shouldn’t even be considering. But damn he just wanted to get away from the noise and rest. He leaned over to Dorian and spoke into his ear.

“Dorian, how are you with rejuvenation spells.”

Dorian looked at him pale and flagging. “Fenris I don’t know if I could light a candle right now.” A raised eyebrow. “But normally yes, I’m excellent, obviously.”

“Great, rejuvenate me and I’ll get us out of here.”

Dorian looked at the Elf like he had gone completely mad. Then Fenris reached under the table, took his hand, and placed it on the brands of his arm. He was too tired to do more than flicker the section of brands Dorian was touching but it was enough.

The mage’s eyes shot wide, and he barely suppressed a groan. The relief for his utter exhaustion felt so so good.

“Oi! What'cha doin’ under the table there? Joust’in?”

Dorian jolted back as though he had been stung. The Iron Bull roared with laughter.

“That’s not quite how that works Sera.”

“Pity. ‘S why I like the ladies.” This was accompanied by a series of rude gestures leaving no doubt of what she meant.

Dorian turned rigidly forward grasping his cup tightly. Then his eyes narrowed scanning the tavern. “Sera did you see Dagna? I thought I did but it’s so crowded and, well...” Dorian’s voice trailed off and as he did casually rested his hand on Fenris’s thigh, channeling the rejuvenating energy into him. The effect was immediate, and far more powerful coming through direct contact than the distance spells Fenris was used to on the battlefield.

Sera at this point made a wonderful distraction by climbing on the table demanding they help her find “Widdle.” Fenris grabbed Dorian’s arm, growled “close your eyes” and pulled.

The next moment they were standing at the back of the tavern, alone.


	13. Power & Passion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooookay so I wrote porn. For some reason. I've never done that before. But yeah....
> 
>  
> 
> ....be nice...?

Dorian was dizzy, gripping Fenris tightly as he tried to get his feet. In one sense the sensation was a bit like a fade step. Except backwards. Through a solid wall. So not really all that much.

“Fenris, What.. How did you… You can do that?”

The elf merely looked smug.

Maybe in was the dizziness, or the mana drain, or the Lyrium high but Dorian was giddy. For the first time in a long time he acted without thought. He threw back his head and laughed, reached for Fenris, pulled him close and kissed him.

Fenris froze.

As soon as he felt Fenris’s body stiffen Dorian stopped. He pulled back starting to babble an apology.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me I should never have presume…”

The next moment he was pinned against the wall, emerald green eyes boring into his own. Those eyes searched his for something. The next minute lips were crashing against his, biting, claiming. Dorian held Fenris like a drowning man. A thigh pressed between his legs and he whimpered as Fenris ground his hips against the man’s pelvis.

Fenris voice rumbled deep and richer than sin, “Perhaps we should go somewhere else.”

Dorian’s head fell back against the stone, pupils blown wide as he tried to catch his breath long enough to think. Thinking, he was good at that.

“My room. It isn’t far”

If anyone had told him half an hour ago that he would make time up the stairs that quickly he wouldn’t have believed them. It’s amazing what the right motivation can do.

The corridor took longer, when they finally made it to his rooms half of Dorian's buckles were open and he was trying to do the same to Fenris. Dorian was no stranger to the absurd Tevinter style of armour but Fenris’s armour was significantly less flexible than his own and the elf was just as determined to undo him.

The moment the door closed gauntlets hit the floor. Hands and lips were ravenous. Dorian pushed Fenris back against the wall for a moment pulling off his breastplate. Calloused hands ran along Dorian’s sides, skimming under his tunic and finally pulling it over his head.

Fenris raked his eyes over Dorian’s chest. Generations of careful breeding indeed. It showed. He suddenly felt ashamed of his own scarred body. Why would this man want him? He was a monster, he wasn’t meant to have beautiful things like this. He was afraid to look into Dorian’s eyes, afraid to see repulsion, or worse, pity

“Venhedis Fenris!”

Startled he looked at Dorian’s unthinking.

“You are so beautiful.”

Looking at the sheer want on the man's face Fenris felt his heart skip a beat. For whatever absurd and idiotic reason this beautiful, ridiculous man wanted Fenris just as much as Fenris wanted him. He reached for Dorian and pulled him close running his hands down the toned muscles to grab the perfect round cheeks.

Dorian groaned, kissing down Fenris chest as he sank to his knees. He pulled the ties of the other man’s leggings with his teeth. Pulling them down over slim hips, he groaned when Fenris finally sprang free.

His cock was beautiful. The lyrium markings branched from each side of his pelvis framing his groin. His hairless skin was unbearably smooth and he was so, so thick.

“No wonder you carry that ridiculous sword, you need the balance.”

Fenris would have had some acerbic retort but Dorian’s mouth quickly drove the chance away. He mouthed and licked from base to tip, moaning, losing himself in the heady scent of leather, musk, and lyrium. Swirling his tongue around the head of his cock, he pressed Fenris into his mouth. Then Dorian used every trick he had learned in the whorehouses of Minrathous to drive the elf out of his mind.

Fenris was beyond speech, beyond thought. He sagged back against the stone, the only thing holding him up. He lost track of everything but the warmth and wet of Dorian’s mouth.

Suddenly a new sensation intruded. An unwelcome one. He felt the pull of the fade as a spell coalesced. Reacting without thought he gripped the other man and rushed.

Between one breath and the next Dorian found himself sprawled on the bed, both arms pinned over his head by a beautiful growling elf. He whimpered at the strength of the man on top of him bucking his hips against the press of their bodies.

“Did you want to do it then?”

A moment of confusion ran across his face until Fenris looked down and saw the conjured grease in the mage's hand.

His answering grin was predatory.

"Do you want me to fuck you Dorian?"

"If you don't I will be extremely put out."

Fenris laughed low. The deep resonant chuckle that did _things_ to Dorian. Even offering himself to be fucked he couldn't help being a mouthy little shit.

He moved slowly now, intentionally as he kept his weight angled to pin the mage down. He swirled one finger lightly around his entrance, teasing. Dorian whined and tried to buck against the agile fingers but it did no good. With deliberate, teasing slowness the first finger breached him. He groaned into Fenris mouth as they continued hard claiming kisses. Soon a second finger joined the first swirling around until he found the spot that made Dorian cry out.

“More!”

Another, finger, still slow as Fenris relished the power he held over the other man.

“Fenris if you do not get on with it I will set you on _fire_!”

Fenris scraped his teeth along the other man’s pulse, growling low in his throat. “Are you sure about that Dorian?” He flared the marks on his hand, still inside him. Dorian screamed.

“Yes, Kaffas, _yes_ , damn you! _Get in me!!_ ”

“As you wish.” The elf was infuriatingly controlled, but not calm. The strain showed in his voice, in the strength of his grip as he flipped Dorian over onto his knees.

Dorian cried out in relief and anticipation as Fenris pulled his hips back flush against his pelvis. Fenris slicked his cock, rubbing it along Dorian's crack, then slowly and inexorably pressed in.

Dorian moaned wantonly. It had been _so long_ and it felt _so good_. He arched his back, opening himself and trying to get as much of the elf as he could. Fenris gripped his hips with unspeakable strength, controlling the long stretch and burn until he finally bottomed out.

He waited a moment for them both to adjust then Fenris rolled his hips.

“Fastavass _Fenris by all the Old gods fuck me_ ”

The elf growled, leaning over him, angling his hips, feeling the pulse and clench around his length. He wasn’t going to last long if the man kept being so damned responsive.

“If you want my cock Mage, you will stay there and take what I give you.”

Dorian whimpered, gripping the sheets, his jaw locked in determination. Fenris took one more moment to admire the view then slammed home.

Dorian cried out at every thrust scrabbling to push back against the force. Every one powerful, driving him out of his mind. Fuck, fuck, the elf was a machine, driving deep over and over. Then he angled his hips just slightly and the shaft struck that one perfect spot. Dorian screamed into the pillow.

If Dorian had been able to think at such a moment he might have reached for his cock. But then he might also have noticed the build of his ambient magic, reacting to Fenris, reacting to the lyrium, reacting to him being shagged out of his damn mind. He was always in control but after the mana exhaustion, the rapid recharge, and the flickering lyrium lines so close, his aura reacted, reaching unfocused towards the source.

Fenris didn’t notice he was beginning to glow. The flow of natural magic lighting him up from the inside. The power and pleasure building on each other back and forth between the two. Moans grew louder the room grew brighter, Fenris growled fucking faster and faster, hecouldn’t hold on any longer. He lit his brands fully as he roared his release, feeling Dorian clamp down on him as he too climaxed, completely overwhelmed.

The two men collapsed into the mattress and in a matter of moments both were asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't tell my mother...
> 
> (Hides under blankets)


	14. The aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is a truth universal acknowledged that a man from Tevinter cannot have sex without great angst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My darling, beloved, three people still reading this. I'm sorry, I waited intentionally this time but I couldn't do this to you at Christmas. Be Warned! There are flashbacks to abuse. You may be triggered, I know Fenris sure as hell is. In my experience the worst part of abuse is the manipulation that blames you for it. I've hinted at that and I will have to expand on it later. For anyone who sensably skipped the last chapter   
> Dorian FINALLY kissed Fenris, they proceeded to have hot sex and exahstion+magic+lyrium=lighting up like Satinalia fireworks. Also not great control. Because reasons

There’s a funny thing about falling asleep of exhaustion in the middle of the afternoon. You wake up at the most unusual times.

Fenris woke first. His first thought was that he was warm. So warm, with that pleasant ache that comes from exertion. His next thought was that he smelled spices and sex. He opened his eyes to see Dorian’s dark hair mussed on the pillow. His moustache was a mess and his mouth was slack. He had never seen the man like this.

Something clenched inside of him. Dorian was so vulnerable like this, all his fine glamour and carefully constructed defences fallen away. Even asleep on the road he was never quite this relaxed, this unburdened, this free. It occurred to Fenris that this man, who he had nearly killed when he first set eyes on, trusted him. Trusted him enough to relax entirely, to make himself vulnerable.

He had never pushed the elf, never dominated him, accepted the receiving role, quite enthusiastically at that. Did he know what that meant to Fenris? He felt sick at the idea of Dorian knowing what had been done to him by Danarius. But he hadn’t asked or pitied. He shouldn’t still obsess over the man's intentions. Dorian genuinely seemed to like him. To want him, for whatever reason. He felt a swell of warmth mixed with disbelief at the man’s idealism. He thought of the heart he once held in his hand. Possibly the only one Tevinter had ever produced worth protecting.

Slowly, unthinking he lifted his hand towards the other man’s face, to the mussed hair curling on his brow. As he did the blanket slipped down...

Then he saw the bruises.

\---------

Moonlight glinted on silver hair as Fenris raced along the wall. It was well after midnight. The last of the drunks were stumbling out of the rest, too sloshed to notice much of anything. He still stuck to the shadows unthinking of his destination but desperate not to be seen.

Images flashed across his mind’s eye. Dorain's body, marked, bruised.

_Two firm bruises bloomed just under the collar bone where he threw the man down and pinned him to the bed. The bites and scratches below trailed down to the man’s hips. Finger marks. Bruises in the shape of his hands. Dents of his nails._

_Older memories flashed through his mind. Other bruises, other hands. Pain, fear, nameless shame. A voice crawled through his memory, “ensure the cuts don’t scar, but leave the bruises. The beast should remember who he belongs to.” “Vicinius is coming in two days, ensure the wolf is ready to perform.” “Atraxius enjoyed you my pet. I really don’t know why I should touch such a worthless slut. You spread your legs for anyone.” “Kneel dog, show me who you belong to.”_

_There was never a right answer. He must serve as ordered or die, then he would be punished for it. He was a beast, it was his fault men wanted to use him._

Fenris looked down at his shaking hands. Maker, he _was_ a beast. Scared, branded, beaten, marked, a monster. Marring everything he touched as he had been marred. He wasn’t meant for this, wasn't meant to have beautiful things. He could only destroy them.

He leaned over the parapet and was sick. When the retching stopped he lay his brow on the cool stone.

The sound of armor startled him. The next guard rotation. He wouldn’t be caught here.

Fenris ran again. Finally reaching the cold quiet of his own room he closed the door, sank down to the cold stone floor, and wept.

\--------

Dorian experienced a very different waking. Having collapsed so early left even his most indulgent internal clock waking him just after dawn.

As he stretched he felt that delicious soreness, everywhere. _Ugh, I'm a mess. Well I supposed that is the price one must pay for being shagged absolutely senseless._ He thought with a wry smile.

Dorian was not surprised the Fenris was gone, such things were never done in his experience and oddly enough they had slept together the previous night. Though that was a very specific case of overindulging in excellent wine and allowances must be made, particularly in the savage south where there _was_ no decent wine.

Having slept for so long he couldn’t reasonably lounge around even if every instinct rebelled at association with early morning. He took a languid bath in the small brass tub Josephine had procured for him because Josephine was a goddess, and he had promised to back all her proposals regarding Halamshiral to the Inquisitor, using manipulation where necessary. He applied kohl and a slight dusting of gold powder, not too much, he wouldn’t be able to get more anytime soon.

Having absolutely nothing else to do, and with his stomached insisting that he make up for missing dinner last night he stepped out into the early morning..

Ridiculous. Twittering birds, pale skies, next someone would bust into insipid song like a children's pantomime. He saw Cullen sending the recruits out on an early jog before drills. Who knew their stalwart commander could be so cruel? Of course it was worth it to watch the shock the man telegraphed, even from this distance, at seeing him awake. Dorian decided to avoid the morning chill and head straight to the great hall, the kitchens would surely have something out.

As he entered one of the side doors he enjoyed the very satisfying sound of a sputtering Dwarf.

“Sparkler! Up with the dawn? I thought the hole in the sky was weird.”

“We live in an age of wonders my friend. And I missed dinner. Incidentally where is food to be found at this unholy hour.”

“I've got a deal with Nancy, she always brings me some rolls fresh out of the oven. A little butter and honey, best way to start the day.”

“How quaint.”

Varric turned back to his papers and side eyed the mage. “So, you seen our favourite broody elf this morning?”

Dorian's eyes flashed a quick touch of fear, or embarrassment. “I don't’ see why I would, is he usually up at this time?”

“No,” said Varric, gesturing with his quill, “but then neither are you.” Then leaning back affabley as Dorian continued to study his nails

“That was quite the light show you boys put on yesterday.”

“Yes, well, I'm always brilliant, it was nice to have a challenging opponent for once.”

“Uh hu, and that had nothing to do with your room lighting up like a wintersend firework?”

Dorian gaped at him, “I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

_He didn’t did he? Light? Well the end was a bit hazy, amazing but… He had a sudden memory, thumbs against his hip bones, the taste of sex and magic in the air, deep grunts and a flash, Like every part of his body was alight with power and pleasure. Things went white behind his eyes. Oh maker that wasn’t just behind his eyes?_

“Yoohoo Sparkler.” The dwarfs singsong cadence was in direct contrast to the sharp snap of fingers beneath his nose. “I think you're scaring our illustrious leader.”

Lilith was indeed staring at them. Her hair was a mess and she was in was still in pyjamas but she seemed distracted. So distracted she nearly walked into poor Nancy bringing their rolls.

The girl was flustered which Varric waved away with a smile and a whispered word while the disheveled elf poked Dorian.

“Is this real? Am I in the fade? Varric why am I still in the fade? What is he doing here?”

“I live here," Dorian opined "And I'm hungry" he said reaching across her for the first steaming hot bun.

“Also dwarves don't dream, Lily bird, so you aren't going to see me in the fade.”

“Well I could but it wouldn't actually be you.”

“See now that's just creepy. Can we leave of thoughts of demons wearing my face until... Never?”

“Fine by me.” Lilith said stifling a yawn with one hand and scratching her still disheveled hair. She grasped a bun and started applying butter and honey before she continued.

“Actually I wanted to talk with both of you. Hawke got in touch, they've confirmed Venatori in the Western Approach but we have to hurry if we are going to catch this ritual. Varric I know you and Fenris always love to see Hawke and Dorian, it seems to be a Tevinter ritual so we might actually have to talk to the Venatori before killing him.”

“But what about my research?” Dorian complained more as a matter of course.

Lilith put her right hand over her hear and  raised her left. “I solemnly swear by all the Creators you can stay home an research for the next three missions.”

“Even if the dead are walking?”

“Even then.”

“Alright but that better not include the Winter Palace.”

“Ohhhh no, If I can't get out of playing to the Orlesians you all have to suffer with me.”

“I shall suffer through the fine wine and canapés but only for you amicus.”

“Very noble Dorian. Anyways were need to move if we want to catch them and the sooner the better. Since you are miraculously awake we just need Fenris and we can be off as soon as were all packed.”

Varric and Lilith both looked at Dorian pointedly. “What?” He asked taking another bite.

“Alright,” laughed Varric, “I'll get him. It's just as well, normally he likes mornings about as much as you.”

\---

Given everyone’s inordinate cheerfulness Varric was quite relaxed. Nothing prepared Varric for what he found.

He approached Fenris’s door and gave a casual rap before walking right in.

“Hey Broody I hope you’ve got your pants, we’re off to see Haw…. Shit.”

The elf was curled up in a ball on the floor at the end of his untouched bed, his hands fisted in his hair. He turned and for one moment before he turned away Varric saw the fear, loathing and vulnerability that Fenris never let slip. It smote his heart.

“Ok Elf, ok,” said Varric approaching slowly like one would a wounded animal. “Who does Biannca need to chat with?”

A shake of the head.

“Shit I thought you were with Dorian last night.”

A sound suspiciously like a whimper and Fenris curled in on himself tighter.

“Shit, Broody did he hurt you? Because so help me….”

“No!” Fenris jumped up, “no, no, he didn’t...it’s not...it’s not him, it's…”

Fenris looked around widely, willing words to appear and save him from trying to explain. And not explain. _Please Maker not explain._

“Alright,” Varric put his hands up gently, “Alright I won’t ask.”

“Look if Dorian’s an issue it’s ok, we’re going to the Western approach. Hawke’s Warden thing is there you won’t see us for a bit. I’ll just tell the inquisitor you’re unwell…”

“NO!” Fenris shouted. “No, I will go. I… I will go.”

“Do you want me to talk to the Boss about Sparkler?”

“No. It’s not right. It is my burden, he doesn’t deserve…” Fenris buried his face in his hands again with a groan.

“Alright. Ok.” Varric ran his fingers through his hair. “Look it’s your choice I won’t stop you. But seriously Fenris, talk to someone. Whoever you choose, whatever you choose Bianca’s got your back.” Varric reached out tentatively and touched Fenris’ shoulder. “And so do I.”

Fenris gave a wry smile. “Thank you Varric.” Then he pulled his face back to neutrality. “I will need to prepare.”

“Hey no problem, her Inquisitorialness was still in sleeping clothes last I saw. I think Josie dragged her out of bed. I tell her there’s enough time for coffee, she’ll be thrilled.”

Fenris gave a sharp nod, looking past to focus on what was not there.

Varric shook his head and made his way out slowly closing the door behind him. He took in the fresh air trying to clear his head when he heard a drifting voice beside him.

“Hurt, hurt, I hurt him, beast, monster, but he didn’t and he won’t let me tell him. They think hurting is who they are. They turn the dagger in to save the other. Cutting the self hurts them both. What do I do when they won’t let me help them?”

Varric turned to the slender, blonde boy who had materialized at his side.

“Your guess is as good as mind kid. Your guess is as good as mine.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. If it helps I'm honestly not hardcore enough to make the pain stick. 
> 
> Promise.
> 
> Edited to Billie Holiday's "Don't explain"


	15. Longing and loathing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after brings hopes and fears to life. And the pair's pinning effects more than themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have neglected you my lovelies. I hope this helps.

Lovely as the morning had been Dorian was beginning to feel a sense of foreboding.

It started when he saw Varric return. The dwarf was hurrying through the main hall on route to the inquisitor's quarters. He told himself he had no reason to assume the worried look on face had anything to do with him, but it got him thinking.

The morning after was something he was quite familiar with, at least in Tevinter. That was one of many reasons he had largely kept to his own class. Pretending it never happened was something he hated, but it was clear. Understood. Neither could use each other for much more than the moment, as long as you were careful. And both had something to lose by discovery. In Tevinter he would never have touched Fenris. As a slave he could never truly consent, but he also might be a spy and a tool of his master's for blackmail. Here they were equals. The south also had widely different views about such things. What would Fenris expect? He didn't want to act like he did in Tevinter and he had no idea how to act like a southerner. Maker, how did he get himself into these things? He would take his cue from Fenris. If the elf wanted it known, well and good. If not, well it was hardly the first time…. best not to think about that. Trust Dorian bloody Pavus to get involved with the one person who might reasonably have more issues than he.

He entered the stable, there was a beautiful new Imperial Warmblood he had been just dying to see. The mare was spirited, had already nipped at several of the stable hands. Of course such an animal had impeccable taste and merely insisted on the best treatment. If anyone could relate to the depredations of the barbaric south, it was he.

He set down his pack dimly noticing another by the door and entered. He moved slowly, shifting to look down the row of stalls. The silvery coat and fine form stood out in the stable, but the animals attention had already been claimed. As he approached he saw a familiar form. Bare feet, black leather armour, and a tan hand with white markings reaching around to gently stroke the horse’s neck while a voice as rich as dark chocolate murmured unintelligibly in accents of Tevene.

Dorian’s breath caught in his throat. Two such beautiful, powerful creatures in a moment of gentle communion. A part of him dared not intrude. He took a step back but a board creaked under his foot and the spell was broken. The horse tossed her head and huffed indignantly at the interruption, but Fenris turned and in the moment their eyes met, Dorian saw all his worst fears realized.

“Ah, forgive me. I intended to welcome our latest Tevinter refugee, but I see she’s in good hands.”

“Dorian…”

Oh no. He was not doing the awkward morning after conversation. Not now. He slapped a sharp smile on his face. “No, no, it's fine. That's how these things go sometimes.”

Fenris’ eyes were enormous with longing and regret. He hung his head in defeat. “I'm sorry.”

“I said it's fine!” snapped Dorian, somewhat sharper than he intended. He took a deep breath, and spoke more softly “I've been a port in a storm before. I'd rather know sooner than later.”

He turned before he could see the confusion that covered Fenris face, and made his way quickly out.

If he greeted Lilith and Varric with a slightly manic smile, they both had the decency not to mention it.

  
\--------

Varric had been in more awkward situations, at least that’s what he told himself, but by the second day he was trying not to facepalm on a fairly regular basis. Dorian had rachetted his complaining up to eleven. The mountains were too cold, the forest too damp, everything too uncivilized, privations were everywhere, nature was the enemy. He was also determined to be as active as possible, ‘helping’ at everything in ways that often made it worse.

Fenris, in the meantime, talked to no one. Brooding fiercely at the back of his horse’s head, and always volunteering to sort the horses and packs alone while the others set up camp.

Varric didn’t like it. Granted Broody was always, well broody. But something was off about his demeanour. His shoulders slumped, his ears drooped, he had never looked so defeated. He made puppy eyes and sighed at the back of Dorian’s head whenever he thought no one was looking. Twice, he had neglected to wake Dorian for his watch, simply taking both shifts. This of course offended Dorian who insisted he was more than able to pull his own weight and did not need to be coddled. Of course his complaints were made to Lavallen who looked like she was about ready to bash their heads together if she could just get them to stand close enough to each other.

He was going to get some great writing material but he couldn’t help wishing his friends would stop acting like such nug brained idiots.

\-----

Fen’Harel take them both.

These two idiots were so wrapped up in their own hurt they couldn’t see anything else. How was she supposed to deal with two oblivious idiots pinning over each other? Dorian was hurt and desperate not to show it, Fenris whole demeanour screamed guilt, but instead of apologizing for whatever he did, he sulked. One couldn’t hear anything for talking and the other wouldn’t talk. If she’d had a room she would have locked them in it and left them to talk it out or starve. Ok not starve. But when the got to the Western Approach she was going to have a serious talk with Hawke about pulling his friend’s head out of his ass.

She might have to gag Dorian though.

\------

The trip was long and nerves were frayed by the time they reached their destination. The first camp had pulled together some information but they would have to press forward to approach the tower. And there were bandits. And Venatori. And every conceivable venomous beast.

After getting the lay of the land and closing another bloody rift, the Inquisitor decided to press forward on the direct road. If they could get a closer camp established it would be easier to survey the tower.

Of course that was before they ran into Venatori trying to break into a temple possibly sealed by other Venatori. The first group was distracted and dispatched quickly enough, the chokehold at the entrance quickly cleared but nothing prepared them for what happened when they got inside.

Dorian finally blew a gasket.

“Those void damned IDIOTS!!”

Everything was frozen. Everything.

Demons and Venatori frozen in battle, pillars crashing down, bricks frozen in midair. And right in the middle a rift, frozen, and unresponsive.

“Oh it doesn't matter that we lost Alexius and the only other person who studied time magic is activity fighting us! No, no, we already punched a hole in time and tossed it into the privy. Why not again?! Let's play with magic we don't understand, it will make us incredibly powerful!”

“Dorian.” Lavellen said

“Who cares what we destroy along the way?! Lives, history, reality itself…!”

“Dorian!”

“What!?” Dorian turned on her mid rant. Seeing the shocked look on her face he stopped.

“I'm so sorry, that was unworthy. I just..” he gestured at the surrounding madness, “I really shouldn't be surprised by this anymore.”

“Probably not. But then the inquisition has the only available expert in time magic right here, aren't we lucky?

Dorian smiled but it didn't reach his eyes.   
Lilith’s face became more serious. “Is it stable?”

Dorian considered carefully. “For now. Some effort was made to corral the effects, thank the Maker for that, but it can't remain forever, we'll have to disarm it before it destabilizes on its own.”

“I need to know what is going on with the wardens. I'm not sure we have time if we are going to catch this magister.”

“I know amicus, give me a minute”

Lavallen stepped back and waited. Fenris and Varric had been standing silently during this exchange having a very expressive exchange with their eyebrows. Now all eyes turned to Dorian.

He stood with his staff at his side, focused, then slowly reached out with both hands. Fenris felt rather than saw the gentle wave of magical energy. Not forcing, just searching. After a minute he pulled back, still slowly, as if trying not to disturb.

“The locus is further in. As far as I can tell it remains stable for now. Provided no one else starts throwing magic around in here it should remain stable for some time. As long as we post a few scouts outside and keep any more my idiot countrymen out, there should be no trouble waiting until after that matter is dealt with.

They breathed a sigh of relief. There was enough tension about the mission and no one was really all that eager to poke at the frozen battlefield/explosion.

As Dorian and Lilith walked ahead discussing how to best guard the area with their scouts stretched thin, the other two walked behind.

Varric figured it wasn't best to take his openings where he could.

“Sparkler’s really different isn't he?”

“Yes.” To anyone else the response would have seemed dismissive, but Varric could hear the hurt behind his tone.

“Look Elf, I understand if you don't want to talk about it but there's something you need to know….”

——


	16. What you mean to me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Words aren't Fenris' strong suit. Can his actions speak louder than the fears that beset them both?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I'm a bastard posting so erratically. I hope this makes up for it. These two still have a lot to talk about, a lot of past angst to work through. But hopefully now they will listen to each other.

  
Fenris felt like an absolute bastard.

He hadn’t known what to say to Dorain. He had been thinking about it, in the barn. Expecting the man’s anger, wondering how he would apologize or explain. He had never meant to hurt the man. Words seemed so paltry but it was all he had. Then Dorian appeared, saw his confusion, made some excuses and ran away. Nothing he had said made any sense to Fenris. He seemed not angry but embarrassed. When he said he’d been a port in a storm before, Fenris wanted to scream. Was Dorian used to being treated like that? Bruised and discarded? Dorian left so quickly, with so many confusing assumptions. Even if he had been able to find the words to ask, Dorian’s defences were up now and he was shut out.

The whole journey he had vacillated between confusion, despair, longing, self recrimination, and a fierce, if somewhat hypocritical, desire to murder all the man’s former lovers. Trust Varric to finally pull him out of it.

And make it worse.

The time magic had been terrifying. Demons, and Tevinter cultists frozen under an eternally crumbling ceiling, ready to erupt at any moment into blood and madness… it was the stuff of nightmares. Not to mention the place made him feel like he was on fire. He had heard a bit about overcoming the Magister at Redcliffe who wielded time magic. Dorian had mentioned the man as his former mentor, but quickly moved on, to happier tales of his friend Felix. The association seemed... painful.

Varric however had picked up a good deal and read more between the lines. And he was not pulling punches today.

Before they were back at camp the Dwarf had painted a vivid picture. The man Dorian trusted most, the one who picked him up at his lowest, driven mad by grief and loss. Ready to undo the world to save his only son. Dorian leaving wealth, safety, everything, to go to a place where he knew he would be hated on sight, to oppose his greatest benefactor, simply because it was the right thing to do.

The tale had a chillingly familiar tone. What would have happened if Hawke had made a similar choice after Leandra’s death? Maker knew he had been through enough loss, all his family seperated or dead. If Hawke had gone mad would he have been able to do the same? To fight against the one who picked him up at his lowest and saved him simply to do what was right? He couldn’t honestly say yes. The question alone made him sick to his stomach.

By the time Varric got to his conversation with Cole, he didn’t even have the heart to be angry at the spirit-boy for poking around his mind.

_“The point is Broody,” Varric said finally, “Dorian is hurting. You both are. I don’t know what happened and you don’t need to tell me but whatever the confusion is, avoiding it is hurting you both more. For all our sakes, please talk to him, figure this out.”_

Easy for him to say.

Varric was a man of many words. More than that he understood people. He knew when to speak and when to listen. When to prod and when to soothe. Fenris knew none of these things. He spoke little and to the point. He was uncomfortable with confessions and comfort. More than that he had no idea, short of tying the man down, how to get Dorian to stop and listen to him. It was clear though he had to find a way, and soon.

\------

Fortunately or not, there was not much time left in the day for brooding. They still had to find a location for a closer camp with some cover so they would be ready to catch the wardens at he tower the next day. The sands were infested with raiders, hyenas, varghests, and in a cruel twist of fate, several phoenix. They called to mind the things, large and small that Dorian had done to reach out to him. He ached to talk to the man, but as he tried to think of what to say he kept coming up blank. Finally he simply had to focus on the task at hand. There would be no time for explanation if his inattention got them killed.

Exhausted and sunburnt they finally cleared up the last of the raiders on a hill overlooking the ruined tower on the edge of the abyss. By the light of the setting sun they set up a few tents. Lavellan, still drooping, stirred some travel rations into a simple stew. Even Dorian couldn’t muster more than a grunt of complaint.

“We’ll need a watch tonight.” A low moan greeted these words. She was right of course. The scouts wouldn’t be there to set a proper base up until tomorrow. Still no one wanted to give up their bedrolls. Lavellan turned to look at her fellow mage. “Dorian?” Dorian couldn’t repress another little groan, but he shrugged and gave a nod.

“I will watch.” Fenris deep voice interrupted the exchange. Dorian felt a rush of gratitude as he looked up and then an flood of inexplicable annoyance.

“I can pull my own weight” he responded petulantly.

“I have no doubt.” Fenris put up his hands in a placating gesture. Then he smirked, damn him. “I will make you an offer. The next time I do time magic, you may take my watch. In fact I shall insist upon it.” Damn all beautiful smirking sarcastic elves. But there was something else running underneath, an olive branch?

Dorian shook his head and offered a little smile of his own. “Yes, well, * _ahem_ …. see that you do.” Too tired for any other witticisms the three collapsed into their respective tents, and the silent elf sat back to take the first watch.

~~~~~~~

He should have known something was off. Everything about the day was irksome, from the very beginning. Messages had to be sent back to the main base instructing the scouts where the new camp was and not to set up until matters at the warden tower had been addressed. Their proximity to a strange little Orlesian man who the raiders had apparently been given instructions to avoid offered them some cover from interference but the idleness in the heat was maddening. Waiting, hoping to catch some illicit blood ritual was maddening. Making sure you did catch them and not tip them off too soon was maddening.

When they finally set out no one was talking much.

Fenris was glad to see Hawke again, but he couldn’t give more than a nod. He didn’t like the tension in his friend’s shoulders or the pinched look around his eyes. They needed to move and quickly.

He made a conscious choice as they entered the ruin. He took point behind the Inquisitor, he stayed in the body of the group. He was too recognizable and he wanted to observe. The eyes of a Magister were as trained to ignore a slave as the mannerisms of a slave were trained to be unnoticed. Today was not about him and he would not announce himself until he chose.

Dorian had no such reserve.

It was terrible and infuriating. The metallic tang of blood in the air. The bodies of the warriors tossed in a heap like so much trash. The overwhelming buzz of the fade through the rift. The mages, their minds now just as lost as their slaughtered companions. And, of course, a pontificating Magister lightly sprinkled with demons.

Fenris was starting to wonder how many times he had to go through this.

Dorian was seething. Hunched over, muscles tight, and nearly starting to smoke. As Lavellan traded mocking quips with the Magister [ _Livius Erimond, file that away for later]_ Fenris could feel the rage and frustration rolling off of him in waves.

“... They are now tools of my Master!”

“No Livius, you’re the tool.” He quipped.

It was not one of Dorian’s cleverer remarks. That alone was telling enough to worry Fenris until he noticed something else. Perhaps is was his training as a bodyguard. Perhaps so many years spent fighting for his life alone or in groups, always judging intent before action. It was in the deliberate non-reaction to Dorian’s comments. In the shifting of weight that pointed his back foot towards his countryman. Oh the Inquisitor was his focus, had to be, but the Magister was itching to strike out at Dorian.

The light and power crackled as Erimond worked some unknown magic on the mark. He was proud when Lavellan found a way to wrench control of whatever connection he had established away from him and knock the man back on his ass.

He almost missed it.

In the seconds after the choked command for his thralls to cover him. In the instant before he ran like the craven coward he was. No one else saw the gesture, the incantation muttered through gritted teeth. Everyone else was looking to the demons. In that moment Fenris only saw Dorian.

No

There was no time, there was no thought, there was only Dorian and the spell rushing towards him. Fenris lunged.

He didn’t even have time to register the mage’s shock as he was unceremoniously thrown aside before the spell hit.

Fenris’ body seized in excruciating pain. His markings flared. He heard a distant scream that some part of him registered as his own.

“Fenris!!!”

It was Dorian's voice reaching out, trying to hold onto him as everything started to go black.

_That hurt more than I thought it would._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_No! No no no nonono… Not like this. Not for me._

When the elf barrelled into him Dorian didn’t have time to be shocked before the elf started screaming. His brands flared erratically. His body seized, his back arching at an obscene angle, his limbs suspended like some demented caricature of a puppet.

Then the string snapped. Blood began to pour from his eyes, ears and nose as he collapsed.

“Fenris!!!”

Dorian threw himself down beside the elf trying to reach for some way to make it stop. Healing. No, he was no healer and he had to stop the damage from continuing before it could be repaired. He cast Dispel after Dispel until Fenris stopped twitching. He redirected and funnelled away the magic that was running mad through the lyrium, cycling wildly like it was trying to burrow into the body. He didn't notice his friend destroying their opponents with the mark. He would not have noticed if Corypheus himself had materialized before them. He only had eyes for Fenris.

“Kaffas damn you elf, you will not do this to me.”

Some distant part of his mind heard Hawke’s cry of distress, heard Varric restraining the man telling him to let Dorian deal with “that weird ass Vint magic.” His entire attention on the energies beneath his fingers. Trying to sooth the life forces while drawing away the other effects. Keeping a firm eye on the stubborn spirit for any sign that it might try to escape. Finally he was stable. Dorian slumped, exhausted. Someone handed him a potion which he poured down the elf’s throat. Then another, which it took a great deal of effort to make him realize was for him, before he finally looked around.

The rift Lavellan had opened had all but obliterated their enemies, trapped in such a small space. He had never been more thankful for her cool demeanour under pressure than right now.

“It’s alright. He’s stable. Varric is riding ahead to the near camp to make sure there are healers ready.”

Dorian nodded mutely. But it was another hand that reached to help him up. A large calloused human hand. Hawke looked into his face with an openness and heartfelt gratitude Dorian was not used to seeing, especially directed at himself. He gave a little half smile in return and they all turned towards the horses. There would be time to talk when they were safe.

  
~~~~~~~

  
Fenris could not remember the last time he woke with such a headache. Or an, everything ache really. He felt some combination of beat up, on fire, and unbelievable hungover. Had he been to the bone pit with Hawke to fight another sodding dragon then gotten incredibly drunk? No that, that wasn't right. He was missing something important. If only he wasn’t in so much pain he could think straight. He groaned as he started to struggle back to consciousness.

“You’re awake!” A tired familiar voice appeared beside him. He slowly started to make sense of his surroundings. Dry, hot air. A cot. Canvas overhead that only muted the too bright sun. And on a chair just out of reach…

“Hawke…” His voice sounded croaky, weak, and wrong.

“I’m here. And so are you you damned crazy elf. You nearly gave Varric a heart attack. He had to ride ahead. Ride! Varric! Quickly, I might add. He insists you threw out his back. He’s been in here for ‘poultices’ almost as often as Dorian.”

“Dorian…”

“He’s fine too. You’ve been out for three days. He wouldn’t leave the tent. The Inquisitor finally dragged him off to deal with some temple full of demons or something. She said he needed to hit something, I think she was just concerned the healers were going to murder him.”

Fenris heart clenched at that. He wanted Dorian next to him so badly it hurt. On the other hand, he didn’t exactly want to explain things to Hawke. Especially not until he had them worked out himself.

“Sooooooo, When did you fall for the Vint?”

“Kaffas!”

“Oh, please. Even I could see you two mooning over each other. There were puppy eyes and everything.”

“There are no puppy eyes.”

“Suuuure. You know the others are never going to let you live this down. After everything falling for an upper class Vint mage. Even Varric didn’t see that coming.”

“Hawke please, I… There are things he and I have to talk about. I… I’m not sure where we stand. I hurt him and...”

That got a raised eyebrow. “Look Fen, I don’t know where you two are “officially” but the rest is pretty obvious. You stepped in front of blood magic for him, really nasty blood magic. He nearly killed himself trying to fix it and has been buzzing around here half a breath away from hysteria for days. I don't know much Fen. But I know what love looks like.”

The word hit Fenris like a physical blow. Love. Kaffas when had it gone this far? A thrill went through him. A shiver of hope and a new and terrible fear. Not the fear of the battlefield, nor the fear of the slave. The bone deep fear of a free man who, for the first time, had something to lose.

“Hey,” Hawke him back with a touch to his shoulder and a soft smile. “Don’t worry. Stroud and I need to scout Adamant fortress. Apparently you’ll be busy at a ball in Orlais. Something about saving the empress with gossip and tiny canopès.”

Fenris groaned even as he clutched his side. “Trade me?”

Hawke’s laugh rang out clear and strong at that. “Not a chance! I just have to scout an ancient impregnable fortress overlooking a bottomless abyss of darkspawn. You, you have to deal with Orlesians!”

Fenris laughed until he cried even as he doubled over with the effort. They were finally interrupted by the sound of a group returning.

“I think that’s your man.” Fenris merely rolled his eyes. “Alright, alright I won’t say anything just figure it out. It’s good to see you happy, Fen.”

Fenris smiled and his heart swelled with gratitude for whatever twist of chance or fate gave him this generous man as a friend. “Take care of yourself Hawke.”

“Always.”

With that he was gone. Slipped out the tent flap giving Fenris a moment to prepare for the next face he knew, he hoped would come through.

Dorian appeared, anxious tension pinched around his eyes. He looked haggard, at least for him. His hair less than perfect. His robe askew in tiny ways. The kohl lined eyes hadn’t been touched up, possibly in days. He was beautiful.

“You. You’re alright.” Dorian spoke softly coming a few steps closer but hesitantly. As if he was afraid Fenris would vanish if he breathed wrong.

“I am. Thank you Dorian.”

The man started to shake. “You. You were nearly killed! You _bastard_! You… You.” Dorian started to pace his hands making larger and more erratic patterns with each pass. “How _could_ you?! I could have countered it. I could have…. something. It’s my own damn fault if I didn’t have a barrier up. But here you go and nearly get yourself killed! I… I thought… _ngh_!”

Fenris waited until Dorian passed close enough and one of his gestures came in range. He caught the man’s wrist on the downswing and tugged. Dorian tumbled, undignified into his lap with a squeak and he wasted no time gathering the mage in his arms.

“You, what are you…”

“Hush.”

“But..”

“Dorian. Please. Please just let me have this. Let me know you’re safe.”

Dorian whimpered into his neck as Fenris began to stroke his back.

“You made me cry in front of a Grey Warden. I can never show my face again.”

“You are beautiful Dorain.”

“Well that goes without saying but..”

“Dorian.” Fenris cradled his chin softly pulling up gently until their eyes met. “You have never been more beautiful than you are at this moment.”

A sound like a wounded animal escaped his throat. All his fears and insecurities trembled at the surface. A thousand cuts of the soul for every time he had trusted and been betrayed. And this stupidly beautiful warrior, holding him like something precious. Something loved.

“Rest now. We will talk, I swear it. Rest.” The gentle, calming strokes resumed. He buried his face back against Fenris neck. Breathing the soothing scents of leather, musk, spices, and the tang of air before the storm.

And if his eyes continued to drop slow tears for some time, neither of them acknowledged it.

 


	17. Only Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morning finally brings truth to light and both men learn how wrong they can be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that i cannot maintain a consistent schedule or chapter length. I'm not sorry at all to finally post these two speaking honestly.
> 
> Warning: Sap ahead! and fluffy, fluffy feels.

The next time Fenris woke it was to the quiet bustle of the camp. The sun was not high, the tent flap was loose enough to let in a light breeze and the comforting weight of Dorian still rested on his chest. He lifted his hand unthinking to stroke down the other man’s back. Was it supposed to feel this good? Aside from his other arm which was clearly asleep he felt a remarkable sense of wholeness and contentment. He gently pressed a small kiss to the top of Dorian’s head. It felt good, almost too good, and he wanted more.

 

Dorian gave a groan as he began to stir.    

 

“What time is it?” he muttered.

 

“I believe it is morning.” Fenris spoke softly continuing his gentle stroking

 

“Hmph!” Dorian made an indignant sound and burrowed deeper under his chin. “Dreadful time of day, shouldn’t be allowed, have them take it back”.

 

Fenris smiled against the man’s hair. “I don’t know about that. I’m rather enjoying this one.”

 

Dorian muttered incoherently and settled back down for a few more minutes. Fenris knew the moment the man fully came back to himself. His body went rigid. Unsure of whether to pull away or how. The cot was tiny, a fact Fenris was grateful for at this moment. He waited, gently stroking, for Dorian to speak.

 

“I..I’m sorry I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you like this. I guess I should…”

 

“I’m not,” Fenris interrupted, “and I did. I said we would talk. There are many things I wish to say, but it is difficult.... _Fastavass_ , I do not always find it easy to explain. Will you hear me out, please?”

 

Dorian nodded. He gripped the front of the loose tunic the healers had dressed him in and Fenris reached down to take his hand

 

“I must ask one thing first. Please tell me the truth. Did I… How badly did I hurt you that night?”

 

“What?!” Dorian pushed himself up on one elbow and looked at him with such confusion and credulity that it rendered Fenris momentarily speechless. “Is that what this was about? When did I give the slightest indication your attentions were unwelcome? Maker’s Breath Fenris I’m a Necromancer! I deal in fear and retribution. If I had told you to stop and you had not done so you would have been in the corner in terror before I had time to repeat myself.”

 

Fenris started. He looked into Dorian’s face but there was no trace of deceit. Offended dignity, but not deceit.

 

“Well,” he said with a huff and a wry smile “I’ve never found the threat of dark magic comforting before.”

 

“Oh hush. It’s Entropic Spirit magic as you very well know. You’re not some ignorant backwater barbarian.”

 

Fenris took a deep breath and tugged the still grumbling man back down to his chest. This would require a change in plans.

 

“I have a few things to explain it seems. Dorian, when I woke that morning I was… I was happy. For a moment anyways. When I saw the marks on your body… I felt sick. You fight back against others but you’ve never protected yourself from me. I... _Venhedis_ Dorian, you may be the best man I’ve ever met and the thought that I had hurt you like that… Then at the stables, I was so confused. I didn't know what to say. When you said you had been a port in a storm I wanted to shake you. You’ve never been that Dorian. If you said right now that you never wished to see me again I would honour your word, you deserve no less. But I would never stop regretting you.”

 

Dorian made a sound in his throat like a wounded animal. He was shaking as he clung to Fenris. “Dorian? Dorian are you speechless?” Dorian shook his head vehemently but said nothing. “Well this is alarming. I don’t think this has ever happened before.”

 

“I thought you hated me. That waking up that way… I couldn’t bear to hear that being with me made you sick. That I was just another monster who used you.”

 

“ _Festus bei umo canavrum_ Dorian, NO! Never, you have _never_ used me. You have been a better man than I deserved.”

 

Dorian snorted, “you think too little of yourself.”

 

“Perhaps. I’m certainly not the only one.”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

 

“I’m not.” Fenris gently pulled Dorian’s face to look at him. “A thousand years of breeding for perfection could never produce a heart like yours.”

 

There was no mockery in Fenris eyes. At that moment Dorian knew he had never been in greater danger in his entire life. He had also never been more free. He leaned unconsciously closer. Fenris cradled his face, drawing him into a kiss so tender he felt like he would fly apart at the seams.

 

“ _Fasta Vass_ if you make me cry in front of the Inquisitor again…”

 

Fenris chuckled “Well we can’t have that. Perhaps we will simply have to stay like this a bit longer.”

 

And so they remained until Varric was sent to wake them.

 

~~~~~

  
The way back to Skyhold was something of a revelation. Fenris was never far from Dorian’s side, and though neither was accustomed to public displays of physical affection, Dorian was surprised how affectionate the elf was in private. The first night the elf had carried their packs into the same tent without ceremony. After the normal evening of chatter around the fire, they retired and Dorian found their bedrolls already next to each other. He started momentarily and Fenris looked back at him his brows pulling together in concern.

After a moment’s awkward pause. “I’m sorry I should not have presumed…”

“No! No it’s fine. Better, actually I just wasn’t sure what to expect.”

Fenris turned the full force of his enormous green eyes on the mage and he suddenly forgot how to breath.

“I think I will rest better knowing you are at my side.”

Maker help him. That rich rumbling voice and those soulful eyes could get anything from him.

Time to fall back on flippancy before he blurted out something idiotic and ruined it. “Well I suppose I could, if you wish,” he said with a smirk, “after all these southern nights are ghastly.”

Fenris raised an eyebrow at that, “Very generous of you.”

Dorian crossed his arms to stop his hands flailing about. “You know me, always giving.”

Fenris became, if possible, even more smug, “Hmmm, that’s not what I remember.”

Dorian’s eyes widened for a minute, “I didn't mean… That isn’t what I… Oh you’re impossible!”

Fenris let himself chuckle at the offended mage before stepping closer. “In all honesty Dorian, it may be wisest to delay intimate activities. I am given to understand that the reaction of the lyrium…”

“Ah, yes the light show.” Dorian had the decency to look embarrassed, “Varric told me, as I presume he did you. I must apologize, I usually have far better control of my base ambient magic than that. All the same it’s perhaps best not to risk creating a canvas lighthouse on the field. I, well, I’ve never experienced anything like that before.”

Fenris placed a hand to the side of his face drawing Dorian gently to look him in the eyes. “It’s never been like that for me either. I always expect magic to hurt. That, that was outside my experience.”

Dorian leaned into the touch without thought, his whole being straining towards any gentleness, any kindness, like a flower turning towards the sun. Fenris did not know how to be gentle, how to be kind. But for this man he would learn. He drew his mage forward into a gentle kiss.

Dorian reached for him, one hand tangling in his hair, the other slipping around his waist as the kiss quickly became heated. He moaned when they finally pulled apart.

“Maker save me, this week is going to be torture isn’t it?”

“Probably.”

“There must be something we can do that won’t cause a reaction.”

“Yes, but we agreed we should test that somewhere more discrete.”

Dorian whined in his throat, “You should know, I’m a very thorough researcher. I won’t be satisfied without a full battery of tests.”

“I’m sure I will find a way to endure” Fenris deadpanned.

Dorian gave a little laugh that was absolutely not a snort. “In the meantime…”

“Yes. In the meantime.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This contains the sappiest thing I have ever written. Which is probably why the next chapter is porn. I'm sorry I just need to practice my smut I guess.


	18. Being Foolish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! So I added to the last chapter because it was so short that it bothered me. So if you haven't read the last chapter in the last week maybe do that. Also porn. You have been warned.

As it happened, ‘in the meantime’ turned out to be a lot more tortuous than Dorian first anticipated. Every night Fenris would kiss him to distraction. When he was just about ready to throw discretion to the wind, then pull back and hold him, gently but firmly restraining any further escalation. At this point he was plotting any number of vengeful fantasies which, in retrospect, might have been the elf’s goal all along.

By the time they were approaching Skyhold he was torn between a desperate need for a good bath and a burning desire to jump the elf the minute they were off their mounts.

“Dorian!” Lavellan shouted.

“Hmm, yes?” Dorina shook the fantasies from his head

“I’ve been calling your name for two minutes,” she said with a smirk “anything you’d like to share with the rest of the Aravel?” Sounding, no doubt, exactly like her keeper.

“Sorry amicus,” he said trying not to blush, “I was just remembering how long it’s been since I’ve had a proper bath. Somehow throwing myself into frigid mountain streams never quite has the same appeal.”

“Yes, well,” she said with a mischievous glint in her eye, “I’m afraid you’ll have to keep your clothes on a little longer. I need you to come with me to debrief the advisors.”

Damn her she was doing it on purpose. “What have I done to be singled out for such cruelty? I always complete my reports in a timely fashion.”

“Leliana is sending scouts to the temple and she will have questions about any ancient-time-magic related pitfalls they should look out for. Don’t worry, tomorrow you will have the whole day.”

It was one of the Inquisitor’s hard rules. On away missions they were constantly under attack, or guarding against the threat of attack. It was both mentally and physically exhausting. Lavellan insisted that everyone was to take a day of rest on their return. No one was allowed to do any work aside from writing a report while things were still fresh in their minds. She tried to force the advisors to take regular breaks as well, at one point threatening to sit on Cullen to keep the man from his paperwork. This lead to so much blushing Dorian feared the man might faint and had intervened to offer himself as an opponent at chess.

“Oh very well but if anyone else gets between me and my bath I will light them on fire.”

“Indeed,” came an insufferably smug voice beside him, “none shall brook the Magisterial wrath.”

It was a mark of how much things had changed. Comments that would have been vitriolic not long ago were now merely teasing. Dorian was almost too happy to pretend to be annoyed. Almost.

“You of all people know I’m an Altus! Honestly! Have you surrendered entirely to the Southern Barbarians?”

The twisted smile he got in return had a bit too much teeth and Dorian found himself shivering at the thought of exactly how “barbaric” Fenris could be.

“Yes, yes it’s all very dramatic.” Lilith teased, “I’m all a flutter. Now you’re not the only one who wants a bath and a drink. Come on, we’re almost there.”

They chased the last of the sun up the mountains to Skyhold and Dorian was dragged off at once. Just what he wanted. Instead of having Fenris drag him off like a barbarian he had to go answer questions by their far, far too perceptive spymaster. And he still had sand in... very uncomfortable places.

Leliana was thorough and slightly terrifying, as always. At least it didn’t seem that she was trying to keep him. It was well after dark by the time he left. He didn’t know where to ever start looking for Fenris and he hadn’t even had time to drop off his pack. Well that made his first stop easy. He went straight to his room without looking about.. The sooner he felt like a civilized person again, the better. He opened his door and stopped dead.

There were candles lit everywhere, far more than he possessed. The scent of sandalwood came from the steaming bath, a selection of cheese and fruit were laid out on the desk by the door, and standing in the middle of it all, Fenris, with a slightly bashful look on his face.

The Elf cleared his throat. And Dorian realized that he had frozen with his pack in hand and was probably gaping like a fish.

“Forgive me if I intruded I…” Dorian never let him finish.

In two steps he reached Fenris, grabbing his face and pulling him into a kiss. “You wonderful, wonderful man.”

Fenris smiled against his lips as he pulled the other man into his arms and rumbled into his ear.

“Well I needed some way to get you out of your clothes.”

“Ha! Shows what you know. You’ll have more trouble getting them back on.”

“Excellent.”

The thing about Tevinter styles was that to the uninitiated they were a complete enigma, appearing to have either no fastenings or to be made entirely of them, but if you knew precisely where to look you could take them apart in a few well chosen moves. Consequently Dorian had not nearly finished kissing Fenris before he felt his armour loosening around his shoulders. He shrugged off one piece at a time while Fenris undid him in more ways than one. Before he knew what had happened he was down to his trousers, panting and pressed flush against the elf.

“You had better take those off yourself. If I touch them you are never going to get to your bath.”

Dorian whimpered, but Fenris pushed him gently back smirking all the time, damn the blighted tease. Well two could play at that game. Dorian turned and bent forward, undoing his boots while maintaining an excellent view of his assets. He undid his trousers letting them hang off his hips for just a moment. Suddenly he felt Fenris behind him, grasping his hips and pressing against him.

“Continue to tease me Mage and I will take you over my knee.”

It would have taken a far less observant man than Fenris to miss the shudder that ran through Dorian’s body at those words. “Promises, promises” he gasped.

Fenris purred with delight, this had potential. He wrapped one arm around Dorian’s chest, pinning the man to him from behind.

“Here is what is going to happen. I am going to fetch the wine and when I get back you will be in that tub.” He gave one of the nipples a vicious little twist that made Dorian cry out deliciously and jerk against him. “Do you understand?”

“Yes!” Dorian was breathless already. He could do a great deal with a body that responsive. Instead he stepped back and the cold air against Dorian’s naked back was the only sign of his departure.

Dorian shivered. By all the old gods he was going to come just from that voice alone. He took a deep breath and steadied himself. There was something he was meant to be doing right now. Ah yes, the bath.

With Fenris gone for the moment Dorian was able to appreciate the way his back began to unwind in the hot water. He began to wash absentmindedly. Maker he was sore from riding, and he really did have sand in unfortunate places. Well, hopefully he would be an entirely different kind of sore tomorrow.

Tomorrow. Last time Fenris had not wanted him ‘tomorrow’. No he wouldn’t think of that now. They had talked. He had always known the other man would not likely find intimacy easy. He hadn’t even really intended to kiss the elf. Oh he’d been enamoured for months but hopeless, unrequited infatuation was his modus operandi. Underneath it all he had a genuine admiration for the elf, who had freed himself through sheer nerve without any of the advantages Dorian possessed. What would Fenris have been able to do with Dorian’s advantages? He shivered. A will like that could shape a world.

“You know, the bath was meant to relax you. You seem tense.”

Dorian leaned back as a lyrium lined arm wrapped around his shoulder.

“Forgive me, the curse of a brilliant mind you see. We must always be pondering something.”

“Do I dare ask?”

“I.. I’ve lost the trail it seems. You’re quite distracting.”

Fenris gave a low, pleased hum. “I enjoy distracting you.”

“Then I am yours.”

Fenris caught his breath sharply in his teeth. Oh how much he wanted those words to mean more.

Dorian caught the reaction and thought he had gone too far. He began to stammer. “I mean... that is...” A lined finger pressed to his lips. Fenris crouched behind him, his arms wrapped loosely around Dorian, absentmindedly caressing as he searched for the words he needed.

“Dorian I have never been a gentle man. There are few things I have ever been able to call my own. But, there is a certain power in granting a desire. In care. I have had few opportunities to explore such things but I, I wish to care for you.”

Dorian twisted to face Fenris, whose eyes were downcast during this confession. Silently he took the elf’s free hand, drawing it to his face. When Fenris looked up he kissed the lined palm, reverently. Then he leaned into the hand, letting it trail down his face to his throat, tilting his chin back and baring his pulse point. It was a gesture of complete trust, submission, surrender.

It took his breath away.

Fenris pulled him into a kiss, gentle for a moment before becoming almost desperate in its intensity.

“Come to bed?” Fenris asked, eyes hopeful.

“Yes, please.”

Fenris had a bath sheet ready the moment he rose, but Dorian was far more interested in kissing the elf senseless. Fenris had worn the soft green silk tunic, though he had the sense to remove it before accosting the other man in the bath.

Dorian found himself caressing the beautifully defined chest, trying to lick his way down the lines of lyrium while he pressed Fenris back towards the bed. Maker the elf was addictive. The taste of leather, magic, skin with a hint of spice. At the last second Fenris rolled him, landing half on top of him on the bed.

“Dorian wait, there is something I need to ask.”

The mage whined. Pouting from his back he looked like nothing so much as Hawke's Mabari when denied a treat. Not that Fenris would ever tell him that. He was still rather attached to not being on fire.

“I need to know, are you familiar with the concept of a watchword?”

Understanding lit Dorian’s eyes and colour heightened his cheeks as he imagined all the delightful reasons Fenris might ask for a watchword. “Maleficar” he said with surprising firmness. “My watchword is Maleficar.”

“Perfect.” Fenris growled, “Now reach up, hold the edge of the headboard and do not let go.” Then, slowly, he lit the brands in his right hand.

Dorian moaned. The power vibrating through the elf’s hands was indescribably intense. Like an electrical charge keyed directly into his magic. The fingers hovered just above his skin in anticipation. Then lowering slowly, so slowly, to the skin and ever so slightly through. Trailing across his chest, a touch that was not touch yet was so much more. The caress of the raw fade on each nerve almost paralized him with its intensity. He felt like he was on fire. Dorian gasped as he felt the warm wetness of a mouth, a tongue swirl around his nipple, a soft bite. When the lyrium lined fingers returned his whole body arched into the touch. But Fenris had pinned down his legs with one strong thigh just below his hips. Dorian could buck and writhe all he wanted, he would gain no friction.

“Fenris!”

Fenris smirked as he let himself toy with Dorian’s body, revelling in the freedom to touch and explore. To catalogue every twitch, every response. He trailed his fingers down to the crux of the thigh, teasing the nerves just under the surface.

“Maker, Fenris!”

The elf gripped Dorian’s chin and pulled it to face him. “Only my name Mage. Here I am your god and only I can grant you relief.”

Dorian whined but bit his lip. He was determined not to beg. At least, to hold off as long as possible, which he privately admitted would likely not be very long.

“You resist, good. It will make victory all the sweeter.”

Fenris trailed his fingers down further, avoiding Dorian’s straining cock entirely. He skimmed lightly around his balls, fondling them for a moment before just skimming his entrance.

“Is this what you want Dorian?”

“Vishante Kaffas, you bloody tease!”

“Tease? I’ll show you a tease.”

With sudden strength Fenris lifted Dorian up by his thighs. Dangerously sharp teeth traced along the inside of his knee and trailed down his legs as he was slowly and inexorably folded in half. Fenris lowered himself looking directly into Dorian’s eyes, blown almost black with arousal. Leaving dangerous little nips along his leg yet still, maddeningly avoiding Dorian’s cock. Finally coming to rest between his legs.

“Hold your knees.” He ordered.

Dorian’s hands nearly broke the sound barrier as he gripped his knees tightly. He felt dangerously exposed to the other man’s scrutiny and so terribly aroused.

At first hot breath only ghosted across his oversensitized skin. His cock dripped and twitched but no relief came. A tongue traced gently the crux of his thighs and slowly around his sack. He felt the vibrations of a low, filthy chuckle and then a flick over his entrance. A sound he never heard escaped his throat and all coherent thought fell away as warmth and wetness overrode every other sensation.

The dexterous tongue was joined by an oiled finger reaching, prodding deeper as the tongue continued to push and pull at the sensitive flesh. When two fingers reached and curled just so the dam broke.

“ _Place...placere, quaeso miserere._ ”

For a moment Fenris smiled, listening to his lover beg incoherently in Tevene. Then he reached up with his unoccupied hand, finally wrapping an oiled fist around Dorian’s neglected cock he lit the marks on both his palms and let the power flow.

Dorian screamed, his body went rigid as he came and came and came. When Fenris finally withdrew he collapsed, weak as a newborn kitten. When he finally regained a sense of his surroundings Fenris was smirking at him.

“That’s it, I’m dead, you’ve killed me.”

“I should have known you would be a talkative corpse.”

“Oh shut up.” Dorian hit Fenris with one of the throw pillows that happened to still be in reach. He merely laughed.

“Well I think the Orlesians call it the little death”

“There was nothing little about that and you know it. You’ve ruined me, absolutely ruined me for other men.”

“Good.”

The elf’s voice was rich and possessive but there was something else there, a vulnerable undercurrent neither was ready to touch.

Dorian rolled to face him. “You know this means war. And I fight dirty.”

“I expect nothing less of a _magister_ ” Fenris said teasingly. And Dorian just had to pin him down and kiss the smug look off his face.

...and ride him to another two screaming orgasms before they finally got to the food.

~~~~~~~~~

  
After the night’s exertions and the two bottles of wine, one of which Dorian drank almost entirely off of Fenris’s body, it was not very surprising that the two did not rise terribly early. When Dorian did wake it was to a bleary eyed Fenris looking around the room while yawning spectacularly. The strangest thought popped into his mind.

“Your ear!”

Fenris just looked at him like the man had lost his mind.

“It was your ear. The first night we slept together. On top of the tower, after all that wine. Something slapped my nose when I awoke, it was your ear. I didn’t know they could do that.”

Fenris rolled his eyes and fell back on the bed, “your moustache tickles” he growled.

Dorian laughed and reached over to trace the delicate organ, watching it twitch in response until Fenris slapped his hand away.

“I’m sorry did that tickle too?”

Fenris scowled but a faint blush touched his skin. “They are sensitive.”

“Mmmm, I will have to remember that.” He waved his hand towards the fireplace, renewing the banked fire. Fenris flinched and this time Dorian caught it.

“Fenris,” The elf raised an eyebrow in acknowledgement. “You felt that?”

He pushed back his messy bangs covering his eyes for a moment. “I always feel it.”

“Does it hurt?”

“You do not want to know the answer to that.”

Dorian gasped grasping the enormity of the implications. Every day. The elf was in pain _every day!_  To sense magic may be a useful skill but with nerves already inflamed it must be excruciating. “Of course, it would be keyed into you nerves to use, maker they must be raw. Fenris why didn’t you say anything?”

The elf shrugged plainly uncomfortable with the topic. “It has always been so.”

“Well it shouldn’t be!” Said Dorian vehemently, then a little lighter, “How fortunate you have one of the best researchers in the Imperium at your beck and call.”

“Dorian you do not have to…”

“I want to."

"Dorian..."

"Besides, now you’ve gone and told me the problem will bother me until it’s solved."

"Dorian..."

"If you don’t let me help it will drive me mad. Please, for my sake...”

“Alright, alright,” Fenris said rolling his eyes but unable to stop a smirk. “If it means that much to you.”

“So generous!” Dorian’s smile was radiant in victory. “But first breakfast.”

The Mage got up and moved towards the door wrapping himself in a frivolous silk robe as he went. The desk beside it was covered with the unfinished remains of fruit, cheese, and small meat pies from the night before. First a small slip of white paper slipped under the door caught his eye. He reached for it, giving Fenris a very nice view of his ass as he bent over to retrieve it.

“Oh, _Maker_!” Dorian was blushing fiercely.

“What?”

“Nothing!” He quickly pocketed the paper.

“Dorian.” Fenris fixed him with a flat look, clearly he was not going to let it go.

“Fine” sighed Dorian exasperated but still grabbing a plate of food. “It was from Solas. The insufferable man was offering instruction in silencing spells since my ' _Imperial education appears to have neglected this particular skill_.” Dorian tried to imitate the condescending tone of the elf but couldn't help his dramatic flair.

“Oh.” Fenris ears flamed as he thought of several moments last night he had not intended to share with the keep.

“I believe he may have cast one as a courtesy if it helps.” Dorian said offering the plate.

“I see” said Fenris, not knowing anything else to say.

Dorian sat, not looking directly at Fenris. “I would understand, if you did not wish our association more widely known I mean.”

Fenris gaped at the Mage, a sick feeling twisted in his stomach. He should have known, an elf wasn't for equal association. “You are ashamed of me.” He hadn’t meant to blurt it out.

“What?! No!” Dorian looked genuinely affronted.

“I am an elf and a former slave.”

“Maker Fenris the Herald of _Andraste_ is an elf! And a former slave? You might be Andaste herself. _I’m_ the evil Magister blighting the world.”

It was at that moment Fenris realized. “You’ve never had anyone?”

“You know how it is in the Imperium.” Dorian attempted a dismissive wave of the hand. “Anything between men, it’s understood. It’s not that you don’t care you just, don’t hope for more.”

“I did not flee the Imperium to be bound by its rules. And Dorian,” Fenris waited until the Mage met his eyes, “neither did you.”

Dorian took a deep breath. Something he saw in Fenris’s eyes seemed to galvanize him. “No, no I didn’t.”

Fenris cupped his face and smiled. “Good” he said simply.

Even as he smiled Dorian found his lips occupied. _Maker_ , he thought, _please don’t let me loose this. Please, just this once._

That was his last thought for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Place...placere, quaeso miserere. means more or less Please, I beg you, mercy


	19. Funny things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Words have a habit of slipping out and causing mayhem even as everyone is preparing themselves for Halamsiral.

The thing wasn’t that Dorian said it first. 

 

The thing was he didn’t know he said it first.

 

“Amatus would you pass the salt?”

 

They were at the long tables in the great hall, sitting down to an exceptionally late breakfast, if you could call it that, with other late risers. Fenris turned to Dorian to see him looking at Fenris with a completely innocent look of expectation. 

 

“Fenris?”

 

His face was beginning to turn to puzzlement when Varric piped up from across the table, “Hey, Sparkler were you talking to... _ ungh.” _ The sentence remained unfinished as Fenris level a black glare at him and the Dwarf rubbed his shin under the table.

 

“He said he wanted the salt Dwarf.” Fenris growled handing over the condiment in question.

 

“Hmm,” smirked Dorian, “perhaps someone needs more sleep.”

 

“You may be correct,” Fenris replied thoughtfully, “but I fear it must wait. There are a few tasks I must complete.”

 

As he rose to stand Dorian nodded to him. “No rest for the wicked. And I suppose anything is better than this tasteless muck. I will see you later?” There was still a small hesitance underlying his voice, no one but Fenris would have noticed it. It made something warm clench inside of him..

 

”Count on it.” Fenris replied.

 

With a small rare smile for Dorian and a final warning look to Varric Fenris headed out to the ramparts. He needed to think.

 

~~~~~

 

_ Amatus, amatus, amatus, amatus… _ the word swirled around and around his mind as he took deep gulps of the cold mountain air. Of all the words in his native tongue the one he never thought could apply to him.  _ Boy, pet, slave, dog _ terms of demand, degradation, condescension… Love? Never. His stomach twisted at the thought of the sick, servile thing he had once felt for Danarius and thought was love. A cold fear at the thought of abandoning himself to the abyss, the surrender. And yet. The thought of love between equals had never entered his mind. He had no equals in those days, set apart from other slaves, grovelling to his masters whims. Always walking the twin blades of fear and isolation.

 

It took years to think of himself as an equal. Even more to feel comfortable as such.

 

He thought of the open look on Dorian’s face. The sparkling mask of charm, not to deceive and undercut others but to protect himself. Varric would probably say he used his ‘broodiness’ as a similar defence. But Dorian had never walked away, never shunned either mask or man. Unbidden the words of his friend came to mind, ‘ _ I don’t know much Fenris but I know what love looks like.’ _

 

Now the unspoken had become spoken. Not in a moment of passion where one might become carried away, but in the careless, absent-minded day to day. A slip of what was just under the surface. It was up to him and him alone how he would react. Would he turn away? Remain silent until fear and indecision pushed them apart? Or would he turn and face the tiger? What manner of man did he choose to be? 

 

Fenris had been many things but a coward was not one of them. He breathed deeply of the mountain air looking across the mountain crags. Steep inclines, sharp drops, frozen pits, a place hard and inhospitable yet even here life found a way. Trees clung to the lower slopes. Wild rams found the smallest purchase to cling to as they dug for the lichen and tough grasses that clung to the rocks. And behind him, in times forgot, for reasons unknown, sheer will had caved magnificence from the mountain and now it had become his home. 

 

He gave a low chuckle. Sometimes life was a mass of contradictions. Perhaps there was some necessary irony woven into the fabric of the world. How else would love find him here, like this? Well now he had the opportunity to respond in his own time, his own way. A warm smile touched his lips again. This would be fun.

 

~~~~~~

 

Fun, of course, had to wait. The Inquisitor was winding up final preparations for the ball at Halamshiral. Or rather the advisors were. Lilith was panicking. Learning to dance, both to lead and follow, being grilled constantly on minutia of court etiquette by Vivienne. Varric tried to lighten the mood exactly once.

 

“So Iron Lady, if someone uses the wrong fork is that worse than death or just social suicide?”

 

“No one knows darling. Anyone who has ever so misstepped was promptly stabbed to death with the correct fork.”

 

Varric soon found himself occupied elsewhere..

 

Dorian was pulled into the fray for his court expertise and dancing ability. Lavellan would need to know both how to lead and how to follow. In the midst of it all he found himself sitting down to tea, bracing himself to do the unthinkable and ask the Iron Lady for a favour.

 

“What I wouldn’t give for some proper wine.”

 

Vivienne pursed her lips but maintained a small sparkle in her eyes. “Skyhold’s wine steward is a sadistic little man who is trying to kill us.”

“Perhaps he found a deal he couldn't pass up, on vats of vinegar.”

 

“It could be worse darling,” she said with a raised eyebrow, “it could be an Anders vintage.”

 

Dorian dramatically clutched at his chest. “Egad, we would be forced to retaliate.”

 

“Oh yes, but darling you did not come to me in order to disparage the wine, abysmal as it is.”

 

“True, what a waste that would be. But there is a matter I have been considering.” Vivienne gave a slight nod of acknowledgement and took another sip of tea as he continued. “While my own specialization has many uses on the field I find it is not particularly conducive to the healing arts. It is a subject rarely specialized in in Tevinter for obvious reasons. However in our present circumstances I find it advisable to strengthen my knowledge in this area. Your healing abilities as a knight enchanter are formidable of course. It would be remiss of me to seek advice from an inferior source.”

 

Vivienne gave a small smile. She knew he was flattering her of course but that did not make her entirely immune. And he made a valid point. 

 

“Of course it would darling. Your situation is somewhat unique. You possess both advantages and disadvantages in this field. You already possess a very thorough understanding of human anatomy. This is all to the good. But you have irrevocably altered your spirit magic in the course of becoming a Necromancer. You can see it visibly it the change from a green or even blue aura to a purple. Entropy is force and violence. It tears. Healing is the opposite. It grows and builds. You cannot force the denizens of the fade to assist you. You must ask, induce, pull them towards you. The softer spirits can be induced to help but only if they will not be torn apart in the next moment. Entropy and Creation need each other, they are two halves of the same sovereign. I can show you how to induce, to copy the wholeness of the body and draw harmony back into the body. But how to switch between, to walk the balance of your magic is something you alone will have to discover within yourself.”

 

“I cannot undo what I’ve learned, nor would I wish too.” Dorian said somewhat stiffly.

 

“Of course not darling. There is nothing wrong with driving terror into your foes. It is an admirable skill to be sure. But to add a skill you must open yourself to a different perspective. Now, let's look at some techniques…”

 

~~~~~~~

 

Madame de Fer was an exacting tutor. She expected quick comprehension and perfect recollection. Dorian was not a disappointment, he had always been an avid student. If anything his enthusiasm needed to be restrained lest he reinvent the wheel before demonstrating his mastery on all fundamental points to her satisfaction. Regardless, some things were simply a matter of practice. 

 

So it was that he found himself sitting in his room, holding a dagger over his forearm when he heard a familiar knock.

 

“Coming!” He jumped up throwing the knife into the drawer as quickly as possible. The door pulled open to reveal Fenris with a haunted look in his eyes.

 

“Hide me.”

 

Dorian laughed as he closed the door behind the elf. “What terrible thing has happened now?”

 

Fenris wrinkled his nose. “Lady Vivienne. She was quizzing me all through my fitting. It’s bad enough I have to wear boots, now she wants to do something to my hair.”

 

“Ah yes Lilith was ranting about the boots only yesterday. I understand Josephine brought in some fine Antivan leather for them. It is said to be very supple.”

 

Fenris arched an eyebrow severely. “They are still boots.”

 

“How your people built such an advanced culture without proper footwear I will never know.”

 

“Hmph.”

 

“Well we head out tomorrow, at least there can’t be much more. And we so rarely leave with the promise of silk sheets at our destination.”

 

Fenris gave a tiny chuckle at that. Trust the mage to focus on luxuries while saving the world. “Speaking of silk sheets, I wondered if you would would be amenable to sharing a room at the winter palace. I did not wish to presume but Ms. Montilliet has been at her wit’s end trying to arrange appropriate placement for the entourage and besides,” his voice dropped to a sinfully rich growl, “I can think of some excellent uses for those sheets.”

 

Dorian’s eyes widened and his cheeks flushed. Maker if he could find a way to bottle that voice he would be the richest man in Thedas. “That sounds like an excellent plan.” he responded. “We should make the best use of every luxury while we can.”

 

Fenris gave a sinfully dark smirk, but whatever he was going to say was interrupted by a solid Dwarven fist pounding at the door.

 

“Sparkler, Broody, get your clothes back on and come out. Her Inquisitorialness needs us, we’re all having drinks and wicked grace. If we don’t get her and Curly to relax, they’ll both explode before we get there.”

 

Fenris growled but wordlessly acquiesced, following Dorian out of the room and to the courtyard.  


End file.
